


One Year

by Becher, Pandastuff101



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, BoyxBoy, Broadway, Bucket List, Cancer, Deh - Freeform, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Mutual Pining, NSFW, Sick Character, Slow Burn, Swearing, They're gay harold, This will be pain, Treebros, but happy moments, john green can come for me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-03-04 10:32:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13362786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Becher/pseuds/Becher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandastuff101/pseuds/Pandastuff101
Summary: If you were given one year to live, what would you do? That's twelve months, three hundred sixty-five days, or five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes, according to that fucking Rent song. It's also how long Connor Murphy has to live, and he's not planning on wasting it...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER AND TW: I really did try to do my research when making this fic. If you have any questions about Connor's disease and what's going on, please feel free to ask in the comments. It won't be clear throughout the fic, but it will eventually be explained. I mean no harm to people who have been affected by cancer, and hope I can at least try to accurately represent it throughout the fic. If I do get something wrong, I will try to amend it if you tell me. Like i said, though, a lot of it will be cleared up if you just keep going. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

One year. Twelve months, three hundred sixty-five days. That's how long the doctors gave me to live. Do you know what it's like to be given that kind of a death sentence when you're only seventeen? It's like having the sky fall on your shoulders and wrap around you like a boa constrictor. It's maddening, to feel like you're in control one minute, only to have everything taken away the next.  

My therapist―yeah, my parents made me get one of those. To help me 'cope', they said―told me some people _do_ go mad, and kill themselves before their disease can do it for them. They just want to be in control one last time.

I understood that.

Most of the time, I felt like I was watching the clock, counting down the time as my life slowly leaked away. The weird part was, I knew I was _dying_ , but I was still.... _alive_. I was still breathing, thinking―just plain _functioning_ , like nothing was wrong.

Yeah, tell that to the cancer-positive tumor in my brain.

I was watching the clock right now, in fact. Eight thousand, seven-hundred sixty hours left in my life, and my parents wanted me to spend one of them every week talking to a shrink.

"How're you doing today, Connor?" that was me: Connor Murphy. Formerly the school druggie, newly christened the school's pity case. She clicked her pen, all business-like a professional. Everything about this appointment was maddeningly repetitive. Every week, the same dance, with the same outcome. Which was zilch.

I stared back at her unflinchingly. I've perfected _The Look_ over the past few years. It's the perfect mix of _'I'm so stoned"_ and _'I don't honestly give a shit.'_  which were sort of the same thing, but, well...

Usually, anyone met with _The Look_ would wilt, and look away as fast as humanly possible. She, however, stared back just as calmly. I admit, I respected her for it.

This was how we spent most of our sessions―our gazes locked in a sixty minute battle for dominance, both of us refusing to relent by uttering a single word. And at the end of each session, she'd say in a sickly-sweet voice, "It was nice talking to you, Connor. I'll see you next week."

And I'd always smile, and reply, "That is, if the cancer hasn't killed me yet."

Our sessions were the _highlight_ of my week, as you can see.

Today, however, it appeared she wasn't in the mood. She scribbled something down on a pad of paper, as though she was writing out a prescription. I leaned forward, my interest admittedly piqued.

"What's that, Shannon?"

My shrink rolled her eyes slightly. She hated it when I called her that. In my defense, if she didn't want her patients to know her first name, she shouldn't have had it displayed on dozens of questionable certifications around the room.

"What is it?" I repeated as she neatly tore the paper out of the notepad. I don't know how she did it, whenever I tried to do the same, the paper ripped beyond recognition.

She handed it to me, "It's an assignment." I hated  _'assignments'._ School is nothing but hell for me. "You know, a lot of people have bucket lists. It makes life ex _cit_ ing, gives them some kind of goal to reach and look forward to. I want you to write one up, and we'll see what we can do." she pursed her lips, which was really her way of smiling.

I quickly scanned the note, and then glanced back up at her. "This is bullshit." I said, unabashedly voicing my thoughts. Because that's what you're _supposed_ to do in therapy, right?

Her purse didn't falter, "Who knows, Connor. You might find you need this more than you think."

So if we're going to point any fingers as to why I ended up in Evan Hansen's yard at nearly one o'clock in the morning on a brisk Thursday night, with a piece of lined notebook paper clenched in my fist, I'm _personally_ pointing mine at Shannon The Shrink.


	2. One

 

I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this. I had done a lot of stupid things-heck, I once got so drunk I ended up throwing up in a trashcan and promptly began to wear the _same can_ over my head like it was a elongated hat ― but this. _This_ had to peak the top hundred, at least. And that was saying something, believe it or not, since the trashcan thing was maybe number fifty-two.

God, I must’ve been stupid to even consider this as a good idea. Any sane person would call the cops just seeing me walk down the street, let alone bursting into their room in the dead of night. Though, knowing Evan Hansen, I didn’t think that would be the case. Not because we were friends or anything-he was just too eremitic. It was hard to guess how he would react, but I didn’t peg him as the type to even know how to _use_ a phone.

Now, I know what you’re probably thinking: _Connor! Why are you being such a dick? If you want to be friends with this kid, you need to be nice!_ Well, let’s get one thing straight, shall we? I’m not here to make friends. I’m not here to get all buddy-buddy with this kid whose name I barely know.

Truth be told, I wasn’t exactly sure _why_ I was there. I guess my internal logic was that, if I had to complete this fucking list, I wasn’t doing it alone.

I took a breath and shook my hands as they hung at my sides, steeling myself. I was just...breaking several laws by trespassing and breaking and entering. Nothing I hadn’t done before.

I crept as silently as I could to Evan’s window, which I knew was his only because I had been spying on him― _in a totally not creepy way, I swear_ ―for around fifteen minutes, now. It was located at the back end of the small house, and, quite conveniently, had an oak tree with thick, reaching branches growing just outside of it. Evan’s room was on the second floor.

I grabbed the lowest one, which was about as high as my chest, and heaved myself over it, panting. Thankfully, it was an easy climb from there. When I finally made it to the right branch, I just sat for a moment. I could see Evan Hansen, now, and was surprised to find that he was awake. It looked like he was writing something, but a stack of books blocked my view, so I couldn’t be sure.

 _This was it._ I reached over, and, finding it unlocked, pushed open the window.

He didn’t even notice me, at first. I stood there awkwardly, trying to think of something to say.

_Play it off. Act cool; if you start freaking out, so will he._

I didn’t have much time to think. Not because Evan turned around―oh, no―but because, at that moment, a piece of carpet stood from the floor and hurled itself towards my face, yapping like a hyena.

Evan turned as I yelped, falling to the ground as the carpet sample began to attack me. His eyes widened in alarm, almost comically so. I was too busy to notice, obviously.

“C-Connor Murphy?” he stuttered, though it seemed more like he was saying, _“Please don’t hurt me!”_

I swear, I tried to speak actual words. But all that came out was a strangled, _“GAH!”_

Somewhat reluctantly, Evan snapped his fingers. The carpet monster stopped pawing at my chest, and ran over to him. Evan bent over in his chair so he could pat the things head, which calmed it down some, though it’s tail was still waving back and forth like some kind of possessed pendulum.

I propped myself up with my arms, panting slightly. “What the hell?”

Evan’s eyebrows knit in confusion, and he lifted the thing into his lap. I was slowly coming to realize that the carpet monster was, in fact, a dog. A shih tzu, so it seemed, whose fur was the same unfortunate white as the carpet. I mean, who has a _white_ carpet? You’re just _begging_ to stain it. He hugged the dog almost protectively to his chest.

“W-what are you doing here?” Evan asked, sounding like he was trying _very_ hard not to freak out. His voice was raised just above a whisper, and shook just a tad. I couldn’t blame him.

“What the _hell_ is that?” I hissed, pointing at the animal.

“This,” he answered, his eyebrow raised, “is Toshi. What are you doing here?”

I slowly stood, eyeing the dog distrustfully. The thing growled a little, surprisingly deep for such a small creature. Evan nuzzled his face in it’s hair, and the dog stopped growling so it could turn around and lick him.

“I’m here to recruit you.” I said, trying to keep my voice as strong as absolutely _didn’t_ feel.

Evan cocked his head in confusion, his blue eyes flashing in the light of his bedside lamp.

“W-what for?”

I could immediately tell what he was thinking, and, again, I couldn’t blame him. I shook my head, “I’m not going to ask you to smuggle cocaine across the Mexican border, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s just...you’re a nerd, right?”

Evan blinked, and I decided to take that as a _yes_ . I had seen him reading _The Lord Of The Rings: 75th Anniversary Edition_ , so I knew he would get my reference, anyways.

I scratched the back of my head, “Well, think of me as Gandalf, right? I’m a tall dude with fabulous hair here to take you on a fabulous adventure.” I explained dryly.

Evan frowned, “I-I don’t think I know what you’re saying. A-actually, I don’t think _y-you_ know what you’re saying.”

I shook my head, and gave what I hoped was a winning grin. “I don’t. Like, at all. What do you think?”

“I think you’re high,” he said, his voice soft but surprisingly cool. With the way he was stroking the shih tzu in his lap, he looked sort of like an evil genius. A blue-striped polo shirt wearing genius. “and probably very confused. And, um, I don’t think you have the right house?”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I had a feeling that, if I did, Evan might actually sick his dog on me. “No, no―I _do_.” I took a breath, “I had this...idea. Ever heard of a bucket list?”

He nodded, softly biting his lip in confusion. I reached into my pocket, and took out my piece of notebook paper. It was slightly crumpled, but it would still do fine. I smoothed it out the best I could, and handed it to Evan. He took it gently, like I was handing him a ticking bomb and not a sheet of paper, and quickly began to read.

When he was finished, he looked up at me, his eyes wide and startled. I shrugged, secretly glad that I had finally captured his attention. “This is mine. And we have a year to finish it, if you’re in.”

Evan glanced back down at the list and read, “ _Number one: Egg Tony Miller’s house_?”

I frowned, souring. “Tony’s nothing but a dick. He deserves it.”

Tony Miller is what I like to call a ‘wannabe redneck’. In fact, he and his family practically model for _Conservative Republican_ weekly. He kept his hair long and greasy―as in, _what’s a shower? Haven’t been introduced to that in years_ , greasy―and wore only dirty flannel and sagging jeans. You wouldn’t believe it by his appearance, but he was ridiculously rich. I had, unfortunately, several classes with him. Do you remember how I said school was nothing but hell for me? Yeah, Tony Miller is a good part of the reason why.

Every day since third grade―you heard it here folks: _third grade_ ―he and his merry band of miscreants would hunt me down and torment me. Teasing, pulling my hair, and, later on, sending me home with various cuts and bruises.

Tony Miller knew a lot of slurs, and exactly how to use them.

To my surprise, Evan simply nodded. “I-I agree.”

I grinned, “Then the fate of the Miller home is in your hands, Hansen. What do you say?”

Evan looked back down at the list, his fingers twitching almost anxiously. For a minute, I grew slightly worried that he was going to say no. After a moment, though, he slowly raised his head. His eyes swam with confusion and doubt.

“W-why _me_?” he asked simply.

I was stunned for an answer. It was a simple question, but the more I thought about, well, the more I actually _thought_ about it. There were a lot of reasons why I had chosen him, but most of them would be pretty weird to proclaim out loud.

I tried to shrug as though there was no real answer to his question. “Why _not_ you, Hansen?”

Evan didn’t seem completely satisfied with that response, but I didn’t give him time to dwell on it. “Are you in or are you out, Evan, because we’ve got like six hours until sunrise.”

Toshi licked his hand in a way that I hoped was encouragingly, and Evan smiled softly, the corners of his lips turning up only enough to be recognizable as that expression.

“H-how did you get in here, anyways?” he asked, gently putting Toshi on the ground and rising to his feet.

I shrugged, “You really need to learn how to lock your window, man.”

Evan pulled on the edge of his shirt before crossing his arms uncomfortably. “I g-guess you need to show me h-how, then.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

As it turns out, Evan Hansen is part squirrel. No, not really―but after seeing him basically fly down the tree, I would’ve believed it. It was a struggle to keep up with him, and I almost fell over a dozen times. When we finally reached the bottom, I threw myself on the ground, panting. Evan looked perfectly fine, which kind of ticked me off.

“Wh-have you done this before, or something?” I asked between gulps of air.

After a minute with no answer, I glanced over at him. Evan was staring up at the night sky as though he had never seen it before. It was a nice night, so I guess he had a reason for being transfixed. The night was crisp and the air smelled of mossy dew. There was no moon, but the stars blanketed the sky-tiny, flying crystals over our heads. Their light reflected in Evan’s blue eyes, like it was dancing.

I cleared my throat, and he snapped out of his daze.

“Are you ready?”

I climbed to my feet, brushing the dirt off of my pants and shirt. Evan nodded, and we started down the road.

I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say. I was never the best with, well, people in general, and the most I can usually manage is an awkward, choppy conversation.

“So, you know Tony Miller?” immediately, panic flitted across Evan’s face. I mentally cursed myself, and tried to backtrack. “Sorry! Nevermind, don’t answer that―I’ll just, um, shut up now.”

Evan hung his head, and kicked at a pebble. It skidded across the pavement before stopping a full foot away.

“Tony Miller is a-an asshole. Let’s leave i-it at t-that.” he said, surprisingly bitter.

I nodded, and we did.

It was a silent, awkward car ride most of the way to the Miller house, so much so that I decided I couldn’t stand it. This was _not_ going as planned ― though, really, I didn’t have much of a plan to begin with. I turned on the radio, and The Smiths _Still Ill_ began to flow through the car. Evan cocked his head.

“W-what band is this?”

I shrugged, “The Smiths. Why? What do you think?”

He looked out the window, so it was more than a little hard to read his emotions. “They’re...something.” it sounded like he was smiling.

I turned it up.

Tony Miller lived on _that_ side of town. You know, the one you drive past and when you mentally rate the houses, they’re all sevens out of tens, ten being a literal castle? Not only did he live on _that_ side of town-oh, no-he was also my neighbor. Which sucked balls, as you might think. If we were girls in some Disney show and he wasn’t such an asshole, we would be the besties who used morse code and flashlights to communicate each other in the dead of night. Instead, every now and then he would flip me off when he caught me glaring at him through the window.

Good times.

I parked a little ways down the street, so I wouldn’t turn on the floodlights and because if I parked in my driveway, Evan would probably put two and two together. I didn’t really feel like answering all his questions, so this was the easier option.

I glanced over as I was getting out of the car to see him still sitting in his seat, giving himself what appeared to be a silent pep talk as he rolled his shoulders back. I raised my eyebrow.

“Hey, Evan?”

“Yeah?” he answered, stilling.

“Are you pussying out or what because, you know, six hour rule?”

Evan bit his lip, and slowly climbed out of the car. I did, too, and made my way around the back to retrieve the eggs out of the trunk. We walked down the street for a little bit before I stopped him by holding out my arm. I gave him an egg, and he handled it as though it were a grenade. I bit back my laughter, and pointed to the Miller house.

“There you are. Give it your best shot.”

Evan stared at the egg for a minute. I huffed, and gently nudged him forward, taking out an egg of my own. I showed it to him.

“See this? Throw it…” I wound my arm back like I was pitching, and chucked the thing at the house. It hit the target with a _splat!_ leaving a satisfying glob of running yellow liquid on the wall. I grinned. “Just like that.”

Evan nodded and aimed for the house, biting his tongue in concentration. After a second, he threw the projectile. It hit a nearby tree, and I brought up my arms, protecting my face as the chunks flew back at us. I grinned as I lowered my arms to see Evan covered with yellow goop. He spit some out of his mouth, and turned to me with questioning eyes. I clapped him on the shoulder, dissolving in guffaws.

“N- _no_ , that is...well, some would say that’s a _start._ ” I choked. I opened the carton, and tossed him another egg. He fumbled with it for a moment, and I walked over to him. I gently grabbed his arm, and he jumped. “Relax, dude, no homo, just showing you how to do it.” Carefully, I wrapped my hand around the egg and his own. Evan stiffened, and I think I did, too. I pretended like it was no big deal, and brought his hand back in a throwing position. I mimed him chucking the egg, and he nodded. After a minute, it seemed like he had the hang of it, and I let go.

Evan paused for a moment, glaring at the house as though it had personally offended him. He brought his arm back like I had showed him, and released the egg.

It was like time slowed. Both of our eyes tracked the egg as it flew towards the house, much faster than mine had. I jumped as it hit one of the windows, sure that it was going to break. To my _utter_ relief, it didn’t. Evan took a step back, his eyes wide as saucers.

“H-holy shit,” he swore in a low whisper. A manic giggle escaped his lips, and he turned around, grinning. “C-can I have another one?”

I handed him an egg, a little bit scared. I grabbed one for myself, and in the span of the next ten minutes we _ruined_ the house. Each egg was another year of verbal and physical torture, another beating, another slur, another night spent alone in my room because Tony chased off anyone who might want to be friends with me.

There weren’t enough eggs to cover the damage.

I reached for another one, but the carton was empty. I threw that instead. My hands were shaking, and I dug my nails into my palm.

“Connor?” Evan whispered. At least, I think. It sounded so distance he might as well have been in my head.

I bent over, and picked up a rock, bouncing it in my hands. I remembered what Evan had said earlier, ‘ _Tony Miller is an asshole. Let’s leave it at that.’_

Tony knew a lot of slurs, and exactly how to use them.

I heard a crash, like glass being broken, and a light turned on inside of the house. I felt Evan pulling on my arm, and felt my feet pound on the pavement as I ran after him. Someone was yelling behind us, presumably from inside the house. My hands were empty now, and I blinked.

We were back at the car. Evan was panting, his hands on his knees. My stomach dropped.

“Evan, I-”

He straightened, and for a moment I was scared that he was going to yell at me-to call me a freak, which was understandable, and to tell me to leave him alone. But he didn’t. There were tears running down his face, illuminated like diamonds in the light of the ridiculously bright stars. Against my better judgment, I took a step forward and wrapped my arms around his small frame.  Slowly, and to my surprise, he relaxed and I felt his head drop on my shoulder.

“HEY! You two!” someone yelled behind us.

I glanced over Evan’s shoulder, and my heart jumped. “Gogogogo,” I muttered in his ear, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the car. Behind us, Tony’s father quickened his pace, screaming bloody murder. I prayed that he wouldn’t be able to read my license plate, and jumped into the car. Evan did the same, and, as soon as he hit the seat, I sped away.

“Holycrapholycrapholy _crap_ ,” Evan shrieked, fumbling with his seat belt. I glanced over at him, and burst into laughter. For a minute, he glared at me like I had gone insane. Slowly, a smile grew on his face, and he began to giggle. “I am going to k-kill you!”

“You wish,”


	3. Two

 

 

The next time I saw Evan Hansen, he was curled on his side in his bed, with Toshi pawing at his back. For a moment, I wondered if the blond-haired boy was asleep. Then I noticed the soft blue glow that filled the room, and, with a shrug, I pushed open the window. Toshi’s little ears perked up, and he turned, unholy barks escaping him. Why did such a small dog have to be such a nuisance? Evan actually fell out of his bed, staring up at me with wide eyes. Eyes that narrowed when he realized who I was.

I waved slightly, “Hey, Hansen. Whatcha watchin’?” I gestured to the computer on his bed, and he shook his head in disbelief.

Evan grabbed his dog, holding Toshi close to his chest. The shih tzu stopped barking, though his low, hushed growl didn’t slip by me unnoticed. I stuck out my tongue, and Toshi whimpered.

“Where h-have you _been_?” Evan asked, not meeting my eyes. “I-it’s been a month.”

I held out my hand, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Evan took it. I helped him to his feet, and leaned against the wall.

“I’ve been...busy.” that wasn’t a lie. My parents had my schedule filled with doctor's appointments, grasping at straws for any possible treatments. I didn’t fight it, but I didn’t see the point to the visits, either. Terminal _means_ terminal, right? Why bother delaying the inevitable. “Besides,” I continued, shaking myself, “I thought that’s how we were going to do this-twelve things on the list, one year. Simple math that calculates to one thing every month, right?”

Evan ducked his head, and I thought a caught a trace of flush on his cheeks.

“What?”

“N-nothing.” he answered distractedly, “Cool-―um, nice hat.”

I touched the beanie I was wearing self-consciously, pulling it snugly to my ears. My hair was beginning to fall out, an infamous side effect of chemo. I hated it. I bet Gandalf never had to worry about _his_ luscious locks.

I shrugged dismissively, dropping my hands to my side. “Yeah. Thanks. So, are you coming?”

Evan ran his hand through his hair, making it stick up even more. He scrunched his nose, considering, “Where to this time?”

I grinned, and pointed towards the ceiling. There were a few old looking stars pasted on it, the kind that glow in the dark. “Up. I mean, roof. Your roof, if you want.”

“M-my roof? Why? What’s up there...there’s nothing. It’s just a roof.”

I grinned, and fished in my back pocket for my phone. “Do you take astronomy, Hansen?” I said, opening the app I had downloaded just for that subject.

Evan shook his head, “No. I like and prefer trees.”

My head snapped up, and I stared at him disbelief, but his blue eyes were completely calm, and showed no sign that he was joking. “O-okay. You do you, buddy.” I joked. Evan blushed, and I laughed. “Just kidding. Trees...are neat, I guess. Anyways: astronomy. Well, not really. Just meteors. There’s a shower tonight, and I want to see it.”

Evan’s eyes widened slightly, “Really? T-that’s so cool!”

I laughed, and wrapped my arm around his shoulders. A small, tentative smile filled his face, and I inwardly cheered.

“W-well, I think I know a way we can take. There’s a window in the attic-well, you get the idea. W-we have to be quiet, though. My mom’s trying to sleep.”

I nodded, and pulled on the strings of my sweatshirt, mostly out of habit. I dropped my arm from Evan’s shoulders, and, before I could really think what I was saying, asked, “What’s your mom like?”

Evan quietly made a sound which I can only describe as the verbal equivalent of a double take. “Uhu hu?”

I quickly smothered my grin. “Your mom. What’s the great raiser of Evan Hansen all about? Or...however you say that.”

Evan blinked, and leaned against the frame of his bed. “Um, well she’s...she’s my mom? She’s great, I guess. Obviously, she could be worse, but I guess that ever since my dad left she’s not home that much, so I don’t really know? She’s a nurse. H-Heidi Hansen.”

My stomach dropped. _Heidi Hansen_ \- ― damn, how didn’t I make that connection? Heidi was _my_ nurse. She was always kind to me, and usually snuck me an extra lollipop- ― which may seem weird at my age, but lollipops are the shit, man. I guess something must have shown on my face, because Evan’s eyebrows knit it confusion.  
“What?”

I blinked, “Nothing. That sucks, Hansen.”

He blushed a charmingly deep shade of red, and ducked his head. “Um, s-sure, yeah.” he pushed off his bed frame, and pointed towards the door. “C’mon,  just... _shhh_ , remember?”

I nodded, grinning at his little _‘shhh’_. “Gotcha. Lead the way, Hansen.”

Evan gently placed Toshi down on the bed, and the little dog barked in protest. He quickly scratched him behind his ears, and Toshi calmed down for a moment. I followed him out of the room, sticking my tongue out at the dog as I went. He growled, and I chuckled softly. Evan turned around to see what I was laughing at, and I quickly smothered my grin, motioning for him to continue onward.

The hall was lit by a small night light, plugged into a socket in the middle of the hall. I raised my eyebrow as we walked closer to it, and I saw that it was, in fact, a Ninja Turtle themed night light. I pointed to it. “Um, what?”

Evan turned midstep, and his eyes following my finger to the light. He blushed, “Agh! I swear, it’s nothing. Just a nightlight I used to have as a kid. My mom’s, um, weird like that.”

I grinned. The nightlight revealed several pictures on the wall, most of a chubby toddler with blonde hair and blue eyes. Obviously, this was Evan. There was another boy in quite a few of them, including the baby pictures. I cocked my head.

“You have a brother?” I whispered, confused, as Evan hurried over to stand next to me, the blush deepening on his face.

He shook his head, “N-no. That’s Jared Kleinman. He’s my family-friend.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Evan bit his lip. “Um, I-I think it’s somewhere between best friend and very distant cousin?”

“That makes no sense whatsoever.”

Evan nodded, “I know.”

“Why is that even a thing?”

Evan shook his head, running his hand through his bedhead. “I, um, I don’t know? T-that’s just what he calls it. He’s only in it for the car insurance.”

My stomach turned. To be honest, I hated Jared Kleinman. For one, there was this. Oh, and yeah, the fact that every time I passed him in the hallway he complimented my hair as being _‘very school shooter sheek’._

“His loss, Hansen. Anyone who can almost break a window by throwing an egg is fine by me.”

Evan blushed, and we continued walking as quietly as we could. At the end of the hall was the bookcase, and, on the ceiling next to that, I thought I could make out the faint outline of an attic door. Confirming my theory, Evan stepped in front of me and began to jump. Eventually, with a small grunt, he grabbed a hold of a string and pulled. The hatch fell open, and a ladder came toppling out. Evan stepped expertly out of the way, catching it lightly before it could hit the floor. I sighed, releasing a breath I didn’t know I had been holding.

Evan wrinkled his nose as he looked up into the dark hole. “I-I guess I’ll go first.”

He grabbed one of the rungs, pulling himself up. He was quick and it only took  few seconds until he had pulled himself into the attic. I started after him, keenly tuned to the sounds of Evan shuffling in the dark. I was just pulling myself up when I heard a triumphant _“Aha!”_ and the lights turned on.

Evan’s head poked through the door, his face lit up with a grin. I smiled back. “You coming?” he teased.

“If you get out of my _way_ , I’ll consider it.”

He stuck out his tongue, and pulled back into the attic. I hurried up to join him. Once I was up, I grabbed the ladder and tugged it back inside. Evan closed the hatch because, apparently, it was pretty difficult. The attic was, well, an _attic_. A small space with a slanted roof, dusty and filled with boxes.  Evan easily maneuvered around all of them, but I had a little more trouble finding my way through the maze. While he was waiting for me, he fumbled along the lower side of the ceiling, stretching his arms up so he could pop open the skylight. He was bent over as he did this, and it looked like he was struggling. Once it was open, he motioned for me to hurry up, and wiggled through.

The sky looked like it was straight out of the set of some Hollywood romance. It was one of those moment when something is so gorgeous, you think for just a minute, _‘no way this is real. It’s to perfect.’_ There’s no way I could over exaggerate it. The stars were like tiny crystals, and though the moon was just a pale, silver sliver, it did it’s job of lighting the night very well. Because of this, the darkness wasn’t quite absolute, and I could see fairly well. The roof was slightly slanted, but not enough that I would slide off to easily. Evan found a comfortable spot, and I sat down next to him. It was slightly damp, but I didn’t mind.

“When is it supposed to start?” he whispered.

I looked at my watch, but it was too dark to read the time. I shrugged, “I don’t know. Any minute now, I guess?”

We laid down, both of us quiet as we waited for the show to start. It seemed like only a minute had passed when the first comet streaked across the sky. I hit Evan’s arm, and he gasped when he saw it, his eyes lighting up brighter than the meteor. Then came another one, a minute after that. We were on high alert, scanning the sky to find it. We both laughed when we did.

“Hey, Evan?” I asked, suddenly snickering.

He glanced over at me, “What?”

“Are you wearing space pants? 'Cause that ass is out of this world.”

Evan blushed fiercely, covering his face with his hands. I roared with laughter and he lightly punched my arm.

“I’ve g-got one!” he said, smirking. I grinned. “Are you an endangered redwood tree? Because you’re tall, strong and I want to hug you.”

“Evan, are you a you a tree hugger?” I teased. “Okay, how about this one,” I thought for a moment, and grinned wickedly. “there will only be 7 planets left...when I'm done with Uranus.”

He gasped and covered his face, rolling over on his side. He groaned. The sound was muffled, presumably because he had his hands on his face. “Connor!” I poked his side, laughing. Another comet passed by, and he rolled over so we could watch it. After a bit of silence, he finally piped up. “Are you a revitalized planet? Because I want you to be my future.”

I chuckled, “Aw, that’s adorable. Okay, how does it feel?”

Evan grinned, quickly catching on. “What?”

“To be the only star in the sky.” I whispered despite myself.

Evan’s eyes widened for a minute, and my breath caught in my throat. I hadn’t meant for that to come out that way. But now that it was there, I guess there was no taking it back. I don’t even know why I said that one. It wasn’t like...it wasn’t...

Evan sat up, and I did the same, swallowing hard. Our eyes met, and I swear, I wasn’t in control of my body anymore. I felt my hand rise, and I slowly tilted his chin up. The light of a passing meteor glinted in his eyes, and I swallowed, forcing myself to pull away. My cheeks burned. I sat up as best as I could on the slanted roof. Evan did the same, drawing his knees to his chest.

“T-that er-” a comet passed overhead, and my eyes snapped to it, following its trail. Evan took a shaky breath, “That’s a um, a nice comet.”

I nodded, tapping my fingers on my legs. After a moment of anxious silence, I cleared my throat. “I think I should head home. I’ll...I’ll see myself out.”

Evan nodded, ducking his head. “Y-yeah.”

I hurried to my feet, speed-walking to the skylight. My face was still hot, the night breeze doing nothing to cool it down. I opened the skylight, ready to lower myself in. I bit my lip, and glanced back over at Evan. His head was still ducked, and, as I watched, he ruffled his hair and put it between his knees. His hands clenched into fists, and he raised them over his head like he was protecting himself from the meteors. My heart clenched.

 _Damnit, Connor. You had to do that to him._ Look _what you did to him._ I shook my head, and hurried to the attic.

For once I couldn’t wait to get home.


	4. Three

 

“You’re dying?!?!”

Something flew by me, whizzing inches away from my face. I quickly ducked, and the U.F.O hit the wall behind me with a _smack!_ I zeroed in on it, and turned to face Evan, trying to keep my expression calm even though my insides were roiling in some great battle. His hair was neat, and slightly curled. Maybe it was odd for me to only be seeing them now- ― in my defense, we _did_ only meet at night-―but I noticed a spattering of freckles under the deep, furious flush that filled his cheeks.

I closed the window behind me, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets as I refused to meet his gaze. “How did you find out?” I asked casually, proud that I had kept the slight tremor in my voice controlled enough that he just might miss it.

“Jared told me.”

I finally raised my eyes. Evan was trembling just slightly, his hands clenched in fists and hanging stiffly at his sides. I blinked, my mouth suddenly dry. A friend was supposed to hug him, right? But after what I almost did last time, was I even that to him anymore? He probably thought I was a freak.  I shrank a little into my sweatshirt.

“I always knew I hated him,” I grumbled. Evan just shook his head, taking a few, stumbling steps back and collapsing onto his bed. “How does he know, anyways?”

Evan shook his head before burying his face in his hands. He looked so small, like he could curl into a tiny ball and just disappear. “I don’t know, s-social media or something. C-cancer, Connor?! Why didn’t you tell me? Don’t...you didn’t think or one minute that maybe I-maybe I would like to know? That it might be a good idea or me to know?”

I bit my tongue, knowing that whatever I said would probably-―no, would _definitely_ make everything worse. I put my hands behind my back, and cracked my knuckles-―a nervous habit of mine. Evan winced at the sound, and I quickly stopped. “Sorry.”

There was a beat of silence in which I hesitantly met his blue-eyed gaze. He looked...he looked like he was trying not to cry, and that both confused and pained me. The second reaction just doubled my confusion, and I tried to push it away. After a moment, I shuffled over to him, and sat a good foot away on the edge of the bed.

Evan shifted closer, and I looked away, all to aware of his closeness.  

“W-why?” he murmured. He seriously had to be more specific. I, for one, had no answer to his question. In fact, I had to many myself.

If I’d the choice, I would’ve sat there for forever. Just a blip of time where, well, I wasn’t happy, heck, I think _content_ would be too strong a word, but I was...I don’t know. I was with him. Which was _stupid_ , I know. I mean, we weren’t boyfriends or anything. We weren’t in love. Still, with Evan pressing against my shoulder, our breathing slowly syncing and nothing my mind slowly clearing...I was safe. If I could just pause time and let myself enjoy it or a little longer, I would. I would battle Cronus to the death for the chance to grab his magic remote or whatever and press pause. Of course, that wasn’t an option.

I found Evan’s hand and, admittedly holding my breath, threaded my fingers through his. I hoped he couldn’t hear my heart beating, or feel the pulse thrumming through my body. Instead of pulling away, like I honestly, one-hundred percent expected, a small sigh escaped him and he nestled even closer.

I swallowed, “Evan, I’m-”

He pulled away, his eyes wide and shining. “I-I...it’s okay, Connor. I’m t-tired. Can we just…?”

I nodded, quickly catching on. I followed suite as he laid down, close enough that our noses almost touched. Evan blushed. I took his hands, again, and held them between us, afraid to do much more. Afraid to do something stupid, like, I don’t know, kiss him.

I faked a grin, not liking the melancholy that filled his features. “Did you have to throw a shoe?” I whispered teasingly, poking his cheek.

Evan grimaced, flustered. “I, um, I k-kinda did it on the fly?”

I smirked, “Okay, okay; a _lot_ of people don’t like me. But even Kleinman’s first reaction to seeing me isn’t, _oh! Here comes Connor Murphy, better get that shoe ready!_ I mean,” I scoffed, “c’mon.”

Evan giggled, and quickly covered his mouth with his hand to smother it. I smiled, and lowered his hand. Evan cocked his head curiously, and I flushed, realizing what I had done.

“You just...it’s cute…” I cleared my throat, “Nevermind.”

He smiled curiously, but thankfully didn’t press it. Instead, he hesitantly moved closer, resting his head on my chest. I think I stopped breathing for a moment. Okay...okay so this wasn’t exactly how I thought I was going to spend the night. The shoe-throwing thing was closer to what I had in mind. He yawned softly, and scratched his nose. I felt like I had been handed some kind of delicate flower and was told not to break it, but I wasn't given any directions how to keep it alive, either.

“What’s your favorite type of tree?” I asked, reaching at straws to not screw this-―whatever _this_ was-―up.

He wrinkled his nose, shifting on my chest so he had a better angle to meet my eyes. “Redwoods. But Sequoias are amazing, too.” his eyes danced, “Have you ever seen a Sequoia?”

I shook my head, grinning at his enthusiasm. God, he was just so infectious. He laughed quietly, and rolled off the bed, hurrying across the room to a small writing desk-―the same desk he had been sitting at the first night, what was now three months prior. Was it only three months? It felt like forever ago.

I sat up and watched him riffle through the desk. He pulled out what appeared to be a calendar, and rushed back over, jumping onto the bed. I put my arm around him, cheering silently as he sank into my embrace with a grin. He flipped through the calendar to the pages dedicated to July, and pointed to the header image.

“See, that’s a Sequoia. They’re even thicker than Redwoods. Plus, that’s my birth month, so that’s pretty cool.”

“Really? What’s your birthday?”

He wrinkled his nose, “July seventeenth. What’s yours?”

“December twenty-second,” I answered, shrugging, “it’s never really been a big deal. I never have a party or anything.” Evan bit his lip, his eyes downcast. I raised my eyebrow, “What?”

“I m-missed your birthday.”

I tapped him lightly on the arm, “It’s no big deal, Hansen. Seriously.”

He nodded, “I know it’s just that….it’s….”

I squeezed his shoulders, an idea of what he might be thinking forming in my head. _It’s just that it might be your last birthday._ “Tell me more about these Sek-oyees.” I said lightly, mispronouncing it on purpose.

He nodded again, an obviously forced smile forming on his lips. “W-well, they’re the biggest trees-in fact, they’re the largest _living thing_ based on volume-on Earth...which-which is funny because their scientific name is Sequoiadendron giganteum. I mean, I guess that was on purpose….Sequoias are a species of Redwood, which is n-neat because a lot of people don’t think there can be species within a sort of species, you know, of trees. T-the oldest known Sequoia is- ― or, well, _was_ , since they kind of had to kill it to find out-―three-thousand five-hundred years old. Which, you know, they find by counting the rings in the stump.” he laughed, “Imagine! Being t-the guy who had to count that? Maybe they can do it by machine, I honestly don’t know. Still. Um, so fun fact: Sequoia’s are so brittle that you literally can’t construct with them. I mean, use them in construction. If you try they will basically shatter. Even though you can’t use them for anything, they’re still endangered. Though, really, Redwoods in general are.” he puffed out his cheeks, and rested his head on my shoulder. He seemed a lot calmer, now, as if sprouting tree facts were some kind antidote to his anxiety. “How was that?” he asked.

I grinned, “You know your stuff, Ev.”

“Ev?” he repeated curiously.

I shrugged, my face heating up. “I mean, we’ve been...friends for three months. Or three days, it’s really how you look at it that counts. Either way, don’t friends usually have nicknames?”

No, that didn’t sound awkward _at all._

He smiled, “N-no, I like it.” he paused or a moment, thinking. After a minute, his eyes lit up with an idea. “So, _Con-Con_ , what about you? Any cool a-astronomy facts?”

I thought for a moment, trying to pick out the coolest fact I knew, one he wouldn't have learned in any of our day to day classes. “Um, so you know how the universe is the biggest thing known to man? Like, galaxies are just pockets of it, sort of?” he nodded, an odd movement by how his head was positioned. “Right, so based on the Big Bang Theory―the most widely accepted theory on the creation of the universe-―well, really based on the _inflation_ part of the theory, scientist now hypothesize that our universe could just be a big pocket out of countless pockets in the pants that are space time! Also, in space, the skin of your feet peels off.”

Evan leaned away, miming barfing. I couldn’t blame him-―the last fact _was_ pretty gross. Interesting and awesome, but gross.

Even as he turned back to me, his breath hitching with silent laughter and his blue eyes sparkling like dew drops placed delicately, as if by a miniscule fairy, on a sky-blue forget-me-not petal, I felt my heart come to a full stop in my chest. Figuratively, of course.

Literally, I found myself a little more wary before about the prospect of, well, of death. Of leaving the blue room and the glow-in-the-dark stars plastered to the ceiling, the scabby bark of the tree outside that carried me with each branch closer and closer to the happiness that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Of never again hearing the hesitant laughter I was becoming selfishly used to, or the warmth of blue eyes and soft hands with nails chewed to the wick from nervousness (I wondered if he even noticed the habit, at this point).

Of leaving Evan.

It really was selfish, I guess. My selfish is as selfish does, and ask anyone: I was one selfish prick.

Eventually, Evan drifted off, his even breath warm against my neck as he curled against me. I was getting pretty tired, too, but I didn’t want to leave him. I wanted to stay in our own little bubble of space-time. However, I thought it was also pretty likely Heidi Hansen would kick my ass if she found me in bed with her son, and my parents would not be pleased, as they were definitely more concerned about my overall queerness then the cancerous lump inside my head. I untangled myself from him, and Evan mumbled something, confused for a second before turning over and claiming the rest of the bed for himself. I smirked, trying hard not to think about the metaphorical implications.

It was so cliche, but Evan really did look happier when he was sleeping. The crease between his eyebrows was smooth, and his face was so open, with his sun-kissed skin and messy blonde hair, it wasn’t hard to imagine him in another life. A life where he would’ve been to popular to ever talk to me in the first place, let alone for me to break into his house in the dead of night. Evan could’ve had tons of friends, instead of that asshat Jared Kleinman. He could be captain of the football team, student council, and win the climate award at ou high school graduation. I could’ve died, and it wouldn’t even touch him.

In some universe, that’s the way it is. It was hard to imagine it now, though, when the spell was broken and Evan flung his arm across his face, drool dribbling the corner of his mouth.

I smirked, and patted Toshi on the head. The dog allowed it, her eyes glinting suspiciously in the faint light of the glow stars. She hopped on top on Evan’s bed, circling for a while before comfortably collapsing on his chest. Evan didn’t even flinch.

All was quiet in the Hansen house as I made my escape, the cicadas merrily chirping hello as I walked by. I was ready to collapse when I got home, but it appeared someone else had other plans. Light flooded beneath the crack of my door, and I paused, trying to remember if I had left it on. I cautiously opened it, trying to be as quiet as possible, not that it matter much.

Zoe sat on the edge of my bed, her hands folded patiently in her lap. Her dark hair, longer and softer and straighter than mine had ever been and complete with indigo streaks, was loosely pooled into a messy bun on the top of her head. Dark purple bags weighed at her eyes, and she stiffened when she heard me enter, like she had been dozing off.

“Zoe?” I hissed, carefully closing the door behind me. “What are you doing up; don’t you have school tomorrow?”

When we were younger, this was a pretty regular occurence. Our house was big, and at night the walls seemed hollow and warped. Our parents kept it to pristine to ever feel like a _home_ , not like Evan’s messy room with his Ninja-Turtle night light in the hall. It was empty and cold, the rooms all barely in shouting distance of each other. Zoe was to young to know better than to be scared of dancing shadows and settling floorboards, and often wound up hurrying to my room. If I was up, I could hear her padded feet tip-tapping against the floor as she went.

I know she still gets nightmares, because sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I take to wandering the halls. I can hear her crying in her room as she bolts up in bed. As a Murphy, she’s learned to deal with it on her own.

“Where have you been, Connor?” she whispered back, tucking flyaway hairs being her ears. “It’s three in the morning.”

I fumbled for the light switch, and we both blinked in the harsh brightness. I shifted, feeling like I had been caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

“Nowhere important.” I muttered, kicking of my shoes and shoving them haphazardly into the corner. “Just…wanted some fresh air.”

“I hear the air is really fresh at the ass crack of dawn, yeah,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. I winced, and she immediately softened. “Sorry, I’m just…I’m just tired.”

 _Tired of waiting up for you to come home from God-knows-where, tired of worrying what kind of trouble you’re getting into or what kind of_ drugs _you’re getting into, tired of having a brother who has a ticking time bomb in his brain._

We were all tired, I think.

I shoved my hands self-consciously in the pocket of my sweatshirt. “Maybe you should get some sleep instead of playing Mystery Inc. with my life,” I suggested bitterly. Zoe bit her lip.

“I’m just _worried_ Connor. In your…in your _condition_ , you shouldn’t be off gallivanting in the middle of the night like you used to!”

I scoffed, raking my hands through my hair. I had to remind myself to keep calm, that she wasn’t trying to be insensitive, that she was just _worried_. Granted, my track record wasn’t the greatest. But c’mon.

“Did mom set you up to this? Are you guys worried I’m doing crack or something? I’m not a fucking idiot, Zo! I know what’s going on, and I wouldn’t―ugh! I wouldn’t _do_ that to you guys, okay?” I huffed, “I’m not going to throw it all out the fucking window because I _can_.”

Zoe looked shocked for a second before she composed herself, her face guardedly neutral. An expression practiced and perfected by all the Murphys, especially the children.

“What are you doing when you go out? You go out like every month, but where?” the corner of her mouth twitched, and I was reminded just how devious my sister could be, “Do you have a side hoe out there somewhere that we should know of? Are you stuck in a never-ending John Green novel?”

I pretended to shudder, hoping she didn’t notice the blush that bloomed on my cheeks, because, well, sort of…

“John Green is an overblown author whose books don’t do anything to provide real representation in media, even that burning garbage fire _Will Grayson, Will Grayson_. You can come for me, Zoe Murphy.”

She laughed, and threw a pillow at me. I blocked it with a raised arm, grinning. It felt nice, like how we used to be.

“God, don’t be such an emo gay Connor, just feel the love, goddamn.” she teased. Zoe and her secret-girlfriend, Alana Beck, had no problem _feeling the love_ , to say the least. They weren’t very secretive, actually. My parents were just happily oblivious. I started humming the chorus to _can you feel the love tonight_ , and Zoe raised another pillow threateningly, cocking her eyebrow in challenge. “I’ll take you out, Connor. I won’t hesitate,”

The quick thought of _no, you won’t_ flitted across my mind, and I tried to shake it away. Zoe must’ve thought it, too, because she dropped slightly, curling her body around the pillow.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me where you go, okay?” she resigned, “I mean, I would _like_ to know. I just…don’t want anything to go left unsaid. For when you―” she shook her head, “If you _have_ a side-hoe, I would very much like to meet him, just so you know. And I will tease you _mercilessly_ . I just want to be safe, okay? And always bring your phone in case something happens, maybe try to make sure that someone is with you but that’s okay if you want to be alone, and always come back before mom and dad wake up because they would be _pissed,_ and fortheloveofGodpleasedon’t die―”

A tear rolled down Zoe’s cheek, like a crystal bead. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, like she was hoping I wouldn’t notice.

“Woah, Zoe, hey―”

I sat on the edge of the bed next to her, and she tightened her grip on the pillow, stiff and awkward as I hesitantly put my arm around her shoulders. She was shaking. After a moment, she gave in, turning her head into my shoulder. My sweatshirt became damp with her tears.

“ _Pleasepleaseplease,_ ” she hiccuped into my shoulder, like a prayer. My throat tightened, and I blinked, my eyes burning. I blamed it on the lack of sleep, and not the fact that my sister and I hadn’t sat like this in years, and I hadn’t seen her cry over me since we were seven and I had just broken my arm while doing a stupid trick on my scooter.

I didn’t say anything, I just sat and let her cry. I feel like, sometimes, people need to stop talking and just let people cry. You don’t need to offer your opinions or meaningless sentiments, you just need to be there. It’s a lot more than I can say I had for a long time.

Zoe pulled away after a few minutes, sniffing and wiping at the wet mark on my shoulder. She laughed at it, the sound wet and forced. I shrugged it away, bumping her lightly with my arm.

I cleared my throat. “Um, Zo, it’s totally up to you, but if you want to…I guess to come with me some time, you can come.” my face burned as the words spilled out. What was I even saying? I didn’t know if Evan would be okay with that, and, frankly, I wasn’t sure if _I_ would be okay with that. I pushed those thoughts aside for later. If it set Zoe’s mind at ease, my own feelings weren’t important. Plus, Zoe was sweet. I had a feeling she and Evan would hit it off. “As long as you swear not to tell another soul, not even Alana. I swear to God on this, Zoe.” I held up my finger, pointing it sternly at her, “Because if it got around to mom and dad…”

I didn’t add the obvious _before I die_ or _please, please, please_.

Zoe nodded vigorously, wiping her red nose on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “I promise! When can we go?!” she smiled excitedly, and all of my hesitation disintegrated into the wind.

I scratched the back of my neck uncertainty. “Um, I guess I usually go just once a month, but I’ve been thinking about…” _about how much I want to see Evan more, about how every second I literally can’t stop thinking about Evan and how every time I go to see him it’s like a fresh IV bag or a puff of weed, and it calms me down and fills me up with good feelings but as soon as he’s gone I just want more_ , “about upping that a little bit. So I guess it depends?”

Again, she nodded, and threw her arms around my middle. I awkwardly patted her back.

“Thank you, Connor, I promise I won’t be a burden! You just do what you have to do and I’ll be like a fly on the wall, except you won’t have to swat me!”

“Right. Okay, so you literally made no sense right then, and you know how Alana is about you sleep schedule.” I smiled crookedly as she blushed.

“Thanks, Connor.” her hand flitted to my shoulder in what might have been a half-bump, half-reassuring pat, and she stood, hurrying towards the door. Her Pooh slippers muffled the sounds of her footsteps, and just added to the hilarity as she bumped into my dresser like it didn’t even register on her radar. She mumbled something on her way out the door, and I think it might have been _I love you._

I turned into bed, feeling strangely warm and happy.


	5. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A double update, to make up for the waiting period sure to come as I'm waiting for my computer to be fixed. Your comments are feeding a demon.

 

“ _Connor_ ?” Zoe hissed, grabbing my arm, “This is somebody's freaking house, you realize? We’re not going to, like, egg it or anything, right? _”_

I grinned, remembering the first night with Evan. If it seemed like so long ago, it’s because it was. It was, like, three and a half months ago, and that’s about 34% of my time gone. I was counting. I shook her off, squinting up at Evan’s window. There seemed to be some light coming from inside, which I took as both a good sign and a bad sign. I mean, did he _ever_ sleep? I suppose it was earlier then usual, but I suddenly felt guilty if I had been throwing his sleep out of whack.

“ _No_ , we’re not going to egg it. We’re going to climb up the tree and enter it, like civilized burglars.” I joked, making Zoe squirm at my side. I sighed, realizing she wouldn’t get it. “No, Zo. This is…he’s a friend.”

“ _Who?!”_

I ignored her, already reaching for the first branch. My arms were sore, and shook as I reached, and I cursed them for it. Not wanting Zoe to realize what was up, I grunted and pulled myself up, panting.

_God. Fucking. Damnit._

Zoe watched me, cautious and wary. “I don’t know about this, Connor…”

“You wanted to come,” I reminded her, biting my lip as I completely missed the branch as I reached for it, “so c’mon,”

She huffed, turning on her heel as if to scan the road for incoming police cars. Finding none, she hesitantly jumped for the branch. She grabbed it with ease, and quickly began to follow me up. She and Evan were both monkeys, I swear to Jesus.

Evan was gazing out the window like he was in a romcom, and it was pretty funny to seem him jump back in shock as I tapped against the glass. He shot a glance over his shoulder, and pushed up the window.

“Connor?” he whispered, sticking his head out just enough to see me. His blonde hair was ruffled and stirred with the wind. He didn’t look mad, just a tad bit mortified, “W-what are you doing here?”

Zoe finally reached the last branch, and slid beside me.

“Are you free tonight?” I whispered.

Before he could answer, something like a crash came from inside his room. He drew back, and mumbled something that colored even my cheeks. Who knew Evan had the mouth of a sailor? A soft, pink mouth, to be sure…

I lightly pushed Zoe back, as it was obvious from his colorful choice of words that Evan didn’t want whoever was inside to see us, or us them. I could hear him talking inside, his words occasionally interrupted by a slightly familiar voice that I couldn’t place for the life of me.

Zoe bumped my arm, she eyes wide, “Connor? Why the _fuck_ are we at Evan Hansen’s house at twelve o’clock in the morning, and am I right to presume that _this_ is where you have been sneaking of too?” she tried to sound angry, but couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled past her lips, “I was just joking about the side hoe!”

I glared at her, and tried to tune out the conversation going on inside. Eavesdropping was so fun, but so wrong…

“Remember how I said _not_ to tell mom and dad?” I breathed, “Don’t back out on that.”

Someone approached the window from inside, and I pressed against the wall of the house like I could hide. It was dumb, of course, to assume I could. It only took that asshat Jared Kleinman a second to spot us, and then he was practically howling. I’m glad Zoe was there, because I was ready to launch myself off the branch.

Have I mentioned how much I _hate_ Jared Kleinman? Because I fucking do.

Evan hurried next to him, blushing shamefully. “J-Jared, _shut the f-fuck up,_ My mom’s trying to sleep, a-asshole,”

Jared did quiet down, eventually, but even then he was wiping tears from his eyes. I crossed my arms unhappily, and Zoe hit me like a warning from parent to child to behave. I’m _older_ than her.

“Is this a bad time?” I asked Evan, regret dripping from my voice. He eyed me apologetically, and my bad mood all but evaporated. What was _happening_ to me?

“N-no. You’re here, might as well c-come in.”

“Please do, oh Murphy the great and powerful,” Jared giggled, “enlighten us with your sasquatch-Canadian presence,”

“Actually,” Zoe popped in helpfully, “we’re not Canadian. We’re Scottish, and only distantly.” she beamed, and I was once against very grateful for her people-charming-skills. The corner of Evan’s mouth twitched at that, and he leaned out the window so he could see us better. His eyes found mine and stayed, and I felt like someone had shoved a sparkler down my throat.

In a good way.

“What do you h-have in mind for tonight?” he asked, the wind whipping up a blush on his cheeks. I could live my entire life watching Evan’s eyes, I swear to God. Even when he doesn’t say anything, something always shows. I think my favorite is him like this, mischievous and excited. It was better than pot and stronger than a shot of whiskey. I realized I was smiling stupidly, like a dopey clown, and tried to tone it down a bit.

“Another off-book night tonight. I’m thinking pancakes. Is anyone else hungry for some corporate America?”

By that I meant Denny’s. There was one about fifteen minutes away, driving, and it had been sitting there for as long as I could remember, yet I had never gone. I guess when you become rich, simple pleasures like chain-foods are sacrificed for, I don’t know, cocktail shrimp. It was a bum deal. What made it worse was the fact that the Denny’s was open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and I hadn’t set aside one measly hour of my sorry-ass life to drag my sister over for a visit. It’s funny how things get put into perspective when you’re dying. All those things that you think you have time to do, and then suddenly you _don’t_ and you’re left to scramble to do them. But you can’t learn piano and play at Carnegie in the span of one year, you can’t travel the world or cure cancer. You can’t end world hunger and write and star in a hit Broadway musical. I mean, I suppose you could technically do those things, but even after you get the news the ticking clock seems surreal. It takes awhile for reality set in, and there’s a week, a month, and then you’re whole life gone by like a scene from the window of a car.

After my prognosis (a fancy word I picked up. You learn a lot of snazzy hospital terms when you’re in and out constantly) and the initial chemo, I didn’t do a lot (they haven’t exactly given _up_ on chemo, yet, but they tell me now it’s more about comfort then actually surviving. I understand that) except watch Netflix and fool around with my new stash of medical marijuana. Everyone around me acted like the ground was covered with glass and they were trying to run from a tidal wave, only I was the tidal wave and there was no glass, just me, chillin’ on the couch and trying not to think about how tumours can grow their own teeth and hair, and other awesome facts I learned about my new cancerous friend. Turns out school did it’s job job of keeping me distracted pretty well, and without a gazillion pounds of homework I had no way to entertain myself except to research how exactly my increasingly impending demise might occur. Anyways, I started to get addicted to TLC. Don’t judge, it’s a hole we’ve all fallen into. There is a lot of depressing shit on that channel, I’ll tell you what. And I thought my sketchbook was scary.

One of my favorite shows is _My 600 lb Life_ . It’s the pinnacle of American cinema. People shaming others into changing because they can’t possibly be happy how they are, and if they realize they are happy, well fuck ‘em they don’t know shit. _Lose weight, you fat fucker._ And yeah, I get that there are some serious problems that can stem from having that much body fat. But still. Sometimes the people on the show like to fantasize what life would be like if they were skinny, if they weren’t so large they were closer to dying than _me_ . Humans like to fantasize, but never act. I’ve never wanted to play the piano (though Zoe is pretty rockin’ on her guitar. We could form a family band) or any of that shit. When I was younger, I loved to dance. I was really good at it, too. But as I got older, people started calling me gay and so I stopped. That’s what I would do if I had time, or a time machine. Just dance. I’m happily a fag, anyways. I used to think one of the things you couldn’t do in a year was fall in love and settle down, and I still don’t know if you would have time for the American Dream, but when Evan blushes or grins like _that_ , I feel like some part of it might be true.

Zoe offered to drive us once we had finished shimmying down the tree. I was still reluctant to let Kleinman string along (the urge to shove him into a bush was to great), but I figured it was only fair since I had Zoe. I knew why she wanted to drive us, by the way. She was worried I would collapse behind the wheel or start one of the infamous seizures my doctors talked so fondly about. Kleinman called shotgun, because he’s an asshole. That meant I got to sit in the back with Evan, though, so I didn’t mind.

“I-if you wanted pancakes you c-could’ve just stayed overnight,” he told me teasingly, his cheeks still colored pink from being outside. We passed under a streetlight, and it illuminated his face briefly. His cheeks were mapped with freckles, Aratus’ constellations all dotted on one boy made of the same material as stars (I forgot to tell him the other night―that he’s a star and I’m a star and we’re all stars, up there fizzing in the dark satin) (if I’m a star that we can see, does that mean I’m already dead?).

I grinned, and shrugged like the idea had never occurred to me, rapidly drumming my fingers on my knee. It really hadn’t, but it still would’ve been impossible. Heidi would’ve recognized me, would’ve questioned why I was hanging out with her son, and would’ve told my parents. They would board up my windows, and I would…

“Oh my _God_ , I’m so hungry!” Zoe moaned, her eyes flitting up to the rearviewmirror. “Hey, um, Con? I know that this party is already pretty full, but that’s Lana’s house right there and…”

I sighed, even though I wasn’t really annoyed. I liked Alana. She was nice, even to me, though she could be pretty abrasive and liked asking me what symptoms I was experiencing. Zoe squealed in excitement, and pulled into her girlfriend’s driveway. Alana poked her head out of the window just as she did, revealing the conspiracy against me. I rolled my eyes, and unbuckled so Jared could sit in the back.

It must’ve been a mistake, but at some point in the ride, while Zoe and Alana slipped into easy chatter with Jared about Hogwarts or something nerdy, Evan’s hand found mine. It took me a moment to even realize, lost in thought as I was, and when I did I looked down and then over at Evan. He was staring out the window, his cheeks dark like he might be blushing. So I didn’t say anything, and I didn’t pull away. I squeezed his hand, and tried to pick up my train of thought where I had left it.

Luckily, it was a short car ride.

Jared whooped as we climbed out of the car, pumping his fists in the air and running around the otherwise silent parking lot like he had scored a touchdown. It was a little funny, even.

“I can’t believe this place is open twenty-four seven,” Zoe said dreamily, letting her and Alana’s clasped hands swing between them, “it’s like a dream come true. We should come here more often, Connor,”

I glanced over at Evan, who was trying to wrangle Jared to come inside with us. Jared slung his arm around Evan’s shoulder, and they both laughed, and began to walk our way.

“Yeah. We really should.”

It was a seat yourself ordeal, though there _was_ an usher’s booth up front. The woman behind the counter looked on with dead eyes as we took a booth, and practically threw our menus at us, as if she was daring one of us to comment. I probably would’ve snapped at her in any other situation, but her eyes were sad and bloodshot beneath the snippiness. We ordered our drinks (milkshakes for all of us) and she promised they would come right out.  Sure enough, she came back not ten minutes later with the tray, and the basket of fries for the table that we had ordered as well.

Zoe all but hugged her milkshake as she dipped a fry into the sludgy mixture, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. “ _Oh my God_ , _so_ _good_.”

We laughed at her and the face she was making, even though she was right. The fries were salty and the milkshakes were thick and chocolatey (or, in Evan’s case, vanilla-y), and I wondered why, again, I had never tried to eat there before.

Our pancakes were fluffy and oozing with even more chocolate when they arrived, and while I drowned mine in syrup Jared poked a hole in his and made it into a face mask. I might’ve just been tired, because it was hilarious. Everything was. It was funny when Evan told us about his co-worker at Ellison State Park who had come in to work so high he had tried to marry and serenade a tree, and when Zoe told us about how she threw up in some poor kid’s drum after a nerve-inducing solo.

The booth was small and once again I found myself crunched between Jared and Evan. We played pictionary as we waited for our food, the three of against the girls, who were somehow kicking our asses ( _“Connor, for fucks sake, stop trying to put so much detail in! We don’t have time!” Jared snapped. I stuck out my tongue, “It’s not my fault you’re an uncultured swine,”_ ). Every now and then Evan’s arm would bump against mine or our hands would touch briefly when I handed him the crayon, and my face would burn. After the third or fourth time of this, Jared rolled his eyes, “Why don’t you two just fuck already?”

That was funny, too.

I didn’t feel tired, though, just warm. And happy.  We were there for a good hour and a half, and it was surprisingly easy. Jared didn’t grate my nerves _too_ much, and Zoe and Alana were able to push the conversation into any which direction, and every now and then Evan would accidentally bump his shoulder against mine, sending heat to both of our faces. I tried very, very hard not to linger on how cute it was, and why. Zoe would grin mischievously whenever it happened, but thankfully, she never commented.  I’m not exactly sure what we talked about, but the train of conversation had made sense at the time. I learned Alana was a Scorpio, Evan a Virgo and Jared a Libra, and that Jared had once gotten Evan’s arm broken after convincing him to slide down the stairs on a sled. As it turned out, Jared’s mom worked with Heidi at the hospital, and I knew her vaguely from the times when she and Heidi apparently switched shifts. She had a soft face, dark brown hair, and wide-brimmed glasses. I didn’t tell Jared this, though. No need to ruin the mood.

It was almost one by the time the waitress finally showed us out, probably so she could take a much-needed nap in the back room or something. Zoe whipped out her credit card and paid for the meal, leaving a probably too-generous tip. It was our parents money, after all, and nothing felt better then spending that shit.

We piled into the car, and Zoe blasted the 90s pop-rocks channel as loud as it could go. We sang along at the top of our lungs, even Evan who, as it turned out, was in chorus until fourth grade. Jared asked to be dropped of at his house, which was just down the street from Evan’s.

“I’m still coming over for pancakes in the morning,” he promised firmly, and to everyone’s confusion.

“J-Jared. We literally just ate pancakes. You cut people out of them and tried to reenact the _Titanic_ , r-r-remember?”

Jared nodded solemnly, “Flapjack deserved better than that bullshit. See you today!”

There really was not point in arguing with him, and Evan watched resignedly as Jared hurried across his lawn.

Alana had decided that she was staying over at our place tonight, which meant the car ride was shorter than I preferred. I practically had steam coming out of my ears trying to come up with some way that Evan wouldn’t have to go home so soon, some excuse to keep driving forever. Any reason to see him again, and sooner then in another month.

Trusting that Alana and Zoe could entertain themselves for just a minute or two (or an hour, or three, or a lifetime) I walked Evan up to the bottom of the tree, feeling like an idiot as I did so. _Think of something, stupid_ , I cursed myself, _anything! Just tell him…tell him_

(Not to go)

_to come over and watch a movie, to hangout for a bit longer._

But I didn’t say anything. I just stayed sadly, painfully silent. When we reached the tree, Evan hesitated, putting his hand on the trunk like he was trying to draw its energy from it or something. The house was dark, and the street was quiet. The only car around was mine, still revved up and waiting for me at the curb.

I kicked at the dirt, my hands shoved deep into the pockets of my sweatshirt. “Well. I guess I should get going.” neither of us moved, and Evan played with the hem of his shirt anxiously.

 _Do something_ , the braver part of me urged. The other part snorted.

_Like what, kiss him? What good will that do?_

_It be better than this awkward silence…_

The awkward silence that was broken by Zoe hitting the horn, and causing both of us to jump.

I waved lamely, but as I turned to go, Evan shot out and grabbed my wrist. My heart stopped, and I had to remind myself to breath. Expect nothing, or you’ll fall for everything.

“D-don’t be a s-s-stranger, Connor,” he mumbled, casting his eyes to the ground.

And then his grip loosened, and his hand fell to his side. I heard myself mutter an equally quiet response, and felt my feet carry me back to the car. It was only when my hand was closing around the handle, about to yank open the door, when my body caught up to my mind. Inside the car, Alana and Zoe watched me expectantly, impatiently. I held up my hand, and, heart racing, ran back.

Evan was still there, his eyes wide as I rushed to him, slowing down at just the last second to ask the ever-important question, _“Can I kiss you?_ ”

His breathing hitched, and he nodded, and then I was. Kissing him, I mean.

It’s not like I hadn’t kissed anyone before or that I’m was to die a virgin, but kissing Evan was like kissing a live wire. The air seemed filled with electricity, and sparks danced down my arms and down my spine, making me shiver and draw him closer. Who knew his eyes were such a sparkling blue because of the power he hid within them?

His mouth was sweet like syrup and his lips were light and chapped. It was riding a comet’s tail, clinging desperately as my nerves were set on fire and the world burned beneath me. In space, no one could hear me foolishly tell this boy that I loved him, no matter how hard I screamed it for the whole void to hear.

I think I did. I really think I loved him.

I walked back to the car in a total daze, oblivious as Zoe and Alana assaulted me with questions. I thought I was still caught up in the kiss when we sneaked quietly into the dark house, which seemed oddly bright and smelled strangely, and when I collapsed into darkness, my only thought was, _“Well, this is new,”_


	6. Five

 

When I was five years old, I was afraid of thunderstorms. I had been my whole life, actually, but when I was five my parents sat me down and told me, _“Connor, you’re a big boy now, and big boys aren’t scared of thunderstorms. Zoe is only four, and she’s fine with them! You need to be there to protect your sister, Con. Okay?”_ and it wasn’t okay, but I nodded and went along with it anyways.

Only, later that year we had a massive storm. The house shook and the sky roared and cracked open, releasing a torrent of rain, so much that even my dad got nervous. He made a joke about Noah getting his ark ready, but his eye twitched. I couldn’t sleep that night. I laid in bed, balling my blankets up in my fist and flinching at every boom of thunder. I could hear the trees groaning as the wind threatened to uproot them, like an old witch’s house with floorboards creaking under foot. Every flash of lightning illuminated the room, and I shut my eyes tight, afraid that if I opened them there would be a figure standing in the corner.

Then, at some point in the night, there _was_.

It was Zoe, her eyes wide and frightened as she clutched her old rabbit to her chest with skinny, shaking arms. I sat up and, after a moment, patted the bed next to me. That night and for a long time after for every truly bad storm, she came to my room and slept with me. Sometimes, it’s the things that people don’t tell you that matter.

Anyways, I thought that was just important.

When I came to, I was lying in the middle of the living room floor, the hardwood cold beneath my back. There was a crack of thunder, and I flinched, bolting upright. And immediately turned and threw up all over the rug.

I coughed, and wiped at my mouth with the back of my hand. My head hurt like a son of a bitch, and trust me, I was no stranger to headaches. Someone put their hand on my shoulder and, wordlessly, Alana handed me a glass of water.

I took it gratefully, and downed it in one gulp, as if I had never even seen water before. I was so fucking thirsty. I blinked, and realized that my whole family was gathered around me, staring with strangely mirrored expressions. I don’t know how to describe it―like they had stumbled upon a corpse, or something. It sat worse with me then the contents of my stomach, and that was now stewing on my mom’s nine-hundred dollar carpet.

“I―” I coughed, my voice catching in my throat. They leaned forward like I was about to deliver the word of God or some shit, even Alana. I frowned, “I see e-everyone one’s here for the party. What’s going on?”

It was Zoe who eventually spoke, kneeling beside me but hovering like she was afraid to come closer. “Connor, you…you had a seizure,”

“Oh.” I let it sink in. The information sunk like a heavy stone in my gut, but I just nodded, “Okay.”

The four of them looked at each other in disbelief, and I rubbed at my eyes. God, I was fucking tired. What time was it, anyways? My mom looked like she had jumped out of bed―her hair was still in its neat bun, and she was desperately clutching at her robe.

I guess they were waiting for me to have a bigger reaction. To blow up or something. I just couldn’t, though. I barely had enough energy to keep myself upright, let alone throw a fit over something we couldn’t control. Trust me, if I believed it would change anything, I would’ve flipped of that fucking cunt in the sky long ago.

Zoe held out her hand, and I grasped it gratefully, stumbling to my feet and wrinkling my nose at the mess on the floor. My mother reached over to smooth my shirt, pulling a twig (rather funnily, actually) out of my hair and giving me just the smallest frown.

“I’ll get the rug cleaner, sweetie. Don’t you worry about it. Zoe,” she turned to my sister, “why don’t you heat up the kettle? I think we could all use some tea. Chamomile would be nice…” she turned to my sister, who nodded and grabbed my hand. My dad put his on my mom’s shoulder, guiding her silently away.

Zoe and Alana looped their arms around mine, like I was escorting them or something, except they were just trying to keep me from toppling over at this point. It was sweet, sorta, but also really annoying. I guessed that was how things were going to be from then on. I sat next to Alana at the island, and Zoe started bustling around to make the tea. She got out the fancy cups and tea plates, the box of cookies that I liked and even filled a saucer with cream. I think she was glad for the distraction.

I heard the vacuum in the other room, and the harsh rain against the skylight, but everything sounded more distant then it should’ve, and I suddenly felt that I wasn’t sitting there, but just watching the scene play out on the TV. Zoe dropped a glass, then, and the noise brought me crashing back.

Her body went rigid as she gawked, transfixed, at the broken glass, her eyes wide and brimmed with tears. The sight made be feel hollow, like if you cut me open from head to toe, you wouldn’t find blood or organs or anything, just a lot of darkness and a cancerous lump where my brain should be.

“S-shit,” she mumbled, as if she couldn’t feel the tears running like blood down her cheeks. “S-s-s _hit_. I-I’m so sorry, I just…I wasn’t paying attention and I dropped the m-motherfucking c-c-c―”

Alana stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. It was a ghastly noise. She hurried to Zoe’s side as my sister dropped to her knees, glass crunching underneath her as she tried to pick up the larger shards with her bare hands. She pulled away from them with a yelp, her fingers bleeding. Her eyes were wide as they found Alana’s.

“I-I dropped the fucking cup, Lana. S-shit, it’s…it’s fucking everywhere. The mess is fucking everywhere.”

She started bawling, and Alana reached out to her over the mess, enveloping her in a hug. The timer dinged, and, only dimly aware of what I was doing, I walked over and shut off the kettle. The water was steaming hot as I poured it into the mugs, and took with the tea bags instantly, a soft yellow billowing out from the bag. I filled them all up, and carried them over to the island. I didn’t put them down, though. I just grasped the tray, so hard the metal was biting into my hands, as I watched my sister shake on the floor, seemingly oblivious to the sweet words of comfort Alana proffered.

In the other room, the vacuum turned off, and my mother scurried in. “What’s going on? I thought I heard something break?” her eyes found the mess on the floor and then Zoe and Alana, and her shoulders slumped as though in disappointment. “Oh, Zoe. That was the good china, from my wedding to your father.”

I closed my eyes as they burned. “That’s what happens sometimes, mom,” I said dryly, “shit breaks. Shit breaks, and then it can’t be fixed.”

**»»-------------¤-------------««**

 

I don’t think it was an exaggeration to say I was being held captive. The only times I really got out of the house was when I had to go to therapy. My parents had bumped that up to two hours a week, now, and wouldn’t listen when I told them they were wasting their money. I was also more tired, like, all the time, and as much as I wanted to go out and see Evan, every night  I tried I ended up falling asleep waiting for my parents to go to bed.

“You keep watching the clock, Connor,” Shannon observed, like it was a big secret or something, “is there somewhere else you have to be? Would rather be?”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Barely.

Instead, I leaned back in the overstuffed chair, folding my arms across my chest, “Well, let’s see; Disney World, the Millennium Falcon, the arms of Heath Ledger, oh, and Hogwarts has always been a fantasy of mine.” I drawled, ticking them off on my fingers as I went.

Shannon nodded wisely, and flipped down the cover of her notepad. She leaned my way, tucking her hands underneath her chin and tilting her head just slightly. I could tell she had practiced the position a lot. “How’s that bucket list coming, Connor? Have you got anything started on it?”

Not really, and some small part of me wished she had never mentioned it in the first place. After a beat of silence where I focused on the _hang in there!_ poster behind her head, she continued.

“I think you’re lonely, Connor.” she nodded, pleased with her diagnosis of the blues bug, “I think you are lonely and that is completely normal for someone in your position. What you need to do is _let people in_ . Let in your family and your friends and your _community_. It’s the people who love you who matter right now.”

Amazing. You could almost see the bullshit dripping from between her lips.

I smirked, “Wow, you’re good.”

“You should see my bill.”

Zoe was waiting for me outside, doing homework from the looks of it. She sighed gratefully when she saw me (not the reaction I’m used to getting when walking into a room), and shoved her math binder into her bag. “Thanks God. I’m losing my mind with all this logarithm bullshit. Do you want to go get some tea?”

“Um, fuck yeah I want some tea,”

Zoe laughed, and I threw my arm around her shoulders. As much as I hated to say it, I agreed with Shannon when she said my loved ones were who mattered right now. It didn’t matter what happened to me so long as they weren’t blown away by the aftermath.

There was a tea place down the street that we frequented often after my appointments. It was called the _Blackbird Cafe_ , and was a small little shop squeezed in between a bookstore and a ski shop. It sold an assortment of teas and coffees, and Zoe and I had made it our goal to get through the entire list. It was a strange list, too, with flavors like _creamsicle_ and _spritzy champagne._ I already had my heart set on the mint-chip latte, but Zoe always had a harder time choosing. She plastered a look of total concentration on her face, even sticking out her tongue a bit as she decided.

“ _Frosty’s adventure_ cappuccino, please,” she finally declared, sliding her debit card across the counter. The barista took it, and quickly swiped the order through, turning her back to us so she could prepare our drinks.

Zoe dumped her bag next to one of the bar stools, and collapsed into it. She looked more tired than usual, and more brittle, too. Like if you touched her the wrong way, she would unravel like an apple being cored.

“How’s school been going?” I prodded hesitantly, peeling the wrapper away from my chocolate muffin. “Are you and Alana still doing okay?”

Zoe softened immediately at Alana’s name, a small, weary smile ghosting her lips. She undid her ponytail, letting her hair splay across her shoulders and rubbing her scalp where it had been pulled to tightly. “Oh, yeah. We’re fine. I think mom and dad are on to us, but I don’t really care at this point. They can deal. Lana’s been hinting at some big surprise, too, and…” she bit her lip, eyes dancing excitedly, “I think she wants to bring me to her prom!”

“Well duh,” I grinned, even though something in me twinged selfishly, “that sounds great, Zo.”  
She nodded vigorously, “I know! It might be a little strange to have it all planned out and everything, since it’s a few months away and she hasn’t even _asked_ yet, but I know she wants to wear a tux, so I was thinking we could coordinate the colors of my dress and her bowtie to make it look really cute…”

She kept going, and I was glad for it. Truth be told, I wasn’t feeling quite so up to chatting myself. I couldn’t believe it was almost prom season. I had never been the type of guy to go to dances―because they’re fucking lame, for one―but I _was_ happy to see Zoe so excited for something. The past month or so she had been a lot more quiet, more withdrawn. I couldn’t help but feel like it was my fault, and it probably was. I hated that she got dragged into this mess. At the same time, I was almost…I don’t know, _jealous_ , though I don’t know what for. That she got to have a normal life and go to a normal prom with her normal friends and girlfriend? That was never going to be the case for me, anyways, cancer or not.

I mean, I didn’t even own a suit.

The barista called out our order, and Zoe and I hurried to pick them up. The cup burned my hands, but the warmth was nice as we stepped outside and were hit full face by the autumn chill. Zoe shivered and buried her face in her scarf, her nose already pink.

“Do you want to catch a movie or something?” I asked casually, “I heard the one about straight white nerds who listen to _Green Day_ and drink iced tea is playing,”

Zoe smirked at that. “Great, now we’re playing the game _which movie that is sure to be the highest grossing film of the year is he talking about_?”

“See? You get me.”

Zoe laughed, and started up the car. “As much as I would love that, Alana’s coming over to help me study for our history test.”

It was my turn to smoke, now, “Study? Is that what the kids are calling it three days?”

“Oh my _God_ ,” she muttered, blush burning its way up onto her neck and cheeks.

I grinned, and slumped into my seat, crossing my arms over my chest. Zoe hit my leg as I tried to put my feet up on my dash. “What?” I griped, “I’m all leg, I can’t help it. It’s the Murphy curse,”

I was a little disappointed that she couldn’t come, sure, but it wasn’t her problem I had been cooped up for the last month with nothing to do. For a moment, I thought about Evan, and wondered if he was busy. But…no.

I couldn’t keep doing this to him.

Yeah, I guess it just didn’t seem real before. I could pretend that this wasn’t actually happening, and that the moments with Evan were the only eternity that mattered. But that wasn’t the truth. The last time I went for chemo, I heard the doctors and my mom talking in the hallway. It sounded like good news, but they didn’t tell me anything to my face. They didn’t want to get my hopes up, I guess. No worries there―I felt like crap and was all-to aware that Glioblastoma isn’t curable.

I was going to die, and that was that. It didn’t matter how long it took ( _they gave me one year, but sometimes patients live up to five…or less then the one_ ) or if, by some miracle, it became benign or whatever ( _that doesn’t even mean curable, just that I will die slower_ ). If my future is bright, but it’s only because I’m headed to the bright light at the end of the tunnel.

“Connor?”

I shook myself. Apparently I had spaced off, which was becoming a more-than-regular occurrence.  “Um, sorry, what?”

She spared a second to look me over worriedly, playing it off as checking to see if it was safe to turn. “I asked if you wanted to just watch something on Netflix before Lana comes, or maybe with her once we’re done studying,”

“No, it’s fine, Zo. You’re social schedule is just so lamely empty; I felt bad, really. All you’ve got is your girlfriend and those band geeks

She hit my arm, the tension fading from her face. A new talent of mine.

**»»-------------¤-------------««**

 

I booked straight to my room when we got home, throwing a greeting to my mom as I passed her in the hall. My room was at the end of the hall, which meant there wasn’t a lot of traffic outside my door most of the time. Which is, you know, both good and bad at times. Right now it was the former. I pushed my back against the close door, sliding down until I was on the floor with my knees pushed up against my chest. My head was begin to ache, and I closed my eyes, sighing. I had some sleeping pills on my desk, but I would rather curl up in a ball where I was then crawl all the way across the room, so sue me.

I folded my arms over my knees and buried my face in them. Yeah, no, I definitely needed those sleeping pills. Or maybe just a very large ibuprofen.

I forced myself to stand, and stumbled over to the table, gulping down two of the sleeping pills with some of the water from the bottle I kept by my bed, because hydration. Underneath the bottle was a neatly folded slip of paper, and I frowned as I picked it up, rubbing at my forehead like that would do anything  to get rid of my headache.

It was the bucket list, that stupid thing with only two things actually checked off. I sat on the edge of my bad as I read through it, embarrassment coursing through me.

It was such a dumb idea, to think that I could actually do all these things. I mean, see a Broadway show? On what budget, and where? Climb Disappointment Mountain? On a good day, I could barely get up the stairs without wheezing like a broken bagpipe. Cliff-jumping, even if I didn’t need my mother’s approval, would never have happened, either. And sleep is the best part of my day, so why would I ever want to sacrifice it to watch a stupid sunrise and sunset?

The only plausible one on my list was to embarrassingly cheesy to even mention. I swear, I almost threw up just rereading it.

I crumbled the list into a ball, and held it in my hand. I don’t know why I had made it out to be such a big deal. Even if I did everything on the list, it wouldn’t mean anything. I wasn’t going to be magically cured, and my life wasn’t going to be anymore memorable.

I threw the ball across the room. It halted halfway to the corner, and fell silently to the floor. Quite melodramatic, but then, what wasn’t? My life was never meant to inspire the plot of some made-for-TV movie.

Without anything else to live for, I burrowed under my blankets and waited for the sleeping pills to kick in.


	7. Six

 

October passed quickly, teasing the wind with it’s cruel laughter. I hunkered in my room on Halloween night, despite Zoe’s protests that I should got trick-or-treating with her and Alana (ironically, she assured me). I opted for dragging the bowl of candy up with me and watching classically bad horror movies, like _Manos: The Hands of Fate_ and _The Room_.

If I expected November to pass with the same nugatory air, I was sadly mistaken.

It started with the snow, a dusting of less than an inch but the first fall of the year nonetheless. Zoe laughed when she saw me staring out the window, agape at the soft white crystals that were set to ruin the next few months. Glumly, I accepted the cup of hot chocolate Zoe held out to me. Literally the only good things about winter was the treats. The phone rang in the kitchen, and she ran to get it, flying back into the room a minute later with a loud _WHOOP!_

“School is canceled tomorrow!” she cried, throwing her arms around my neck. I pretended to choke until she let go, still beaming.

“Isn’t it a little to early to call it?” I questioned, looking back at the mildly sputtering storm.

She just shrugged. “You know how they always pussy out for the first few storms. I’m going to invite Alana over, and maybe tomorrow we can go sledding?”

I hate sledding.

“Sure, that sounds fun.”

She grinned and bounced away, leaving me with my cocoa. I guess I must’ve lost myself watching the flurry, because the next thing I knew Alana had arrived and my mother was calling for help setting the table. I wandered into the kitchen, mindlessly taking out enough plates and cups for enough people. Zoe came in to help me, sticking her tounge out at the vegan lasagna when she saw it. Our mom _thought_ it was her specialty but, well, it wasn’t. Like, at all.

“We have to tell her eventually,” she complained, wrinkling her nose as she began to cut into the vegan shitshow we called dinner, “I mean, I don’t know how much longer I can go on. And I have to feed Alana this stuff! I wouldn’t put it past her to break up with me for forcing her to eat it!”

Before I could reply, we were interrupted by a knock in the other room. It was loud and discordant, and matched with a weird sort of urgency.

Zoe’s eyes widened comically, “Please tell me you ordered a pizza so we don’t have to eat this crap,”

“Funny. I was just about to say the same thing,”

Her face fell in disappointment, and I wandered into the next room to answer the door. Murders don’t usually knock, right?

For a second after I opened the door, I just started, barely resisting the urge to close and open it again, just to be sure it was real.

But no. I was 97% sure that my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. _Ha ha, very funny, universe._

“It’s lasagne night,” I blurted, immediately wincing at my own stupidity.

Because _yeah_. When Evan Hansen shows up at my doorstep wearing only a sweatshirt and a pair of blue jean, his hair dusted with sugar-like snow, the only thing I could think of was my mother’s lasagna. Evan didn’t even flinch, just crossed his arms over his chest, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. Every breath he exhaled fanned out from his lips and clouded the cold air. He was silent for a moment, and then words began to tumble from him like crashing Jenga blocks, stacked atop each other haphazardly to create a barely-coherent ramble.

“I-I’m so sorry for showing up like this, I―J-Jard said―It’s so weird―I was worried, and then you were gone for so long I thought maybe; and then Jared…and then you _kissed_ me and I―”

“Woah,” I put my hands on his shoulders, exhausted just from listening to him. He was trembling and I suddenly realized, duh, it was fucking cold. “First, come inside. You’re turning bluer than the fucking ocean. Jared probably brought you here, right?”

He nodded, his fingers shakily pulling at the hem of his shirt. His gaze shifted nervously next door, and I blushed, remembering the egg-scapade all to well. “W-why didn’t you tell me you lived next to Tony?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you owned clothes in any color but blue?” I countered dumbly, guestering to his sweatshirt. It was grey and had the Ellison State Park logo printed on the breast. I realized I still has my hands on his shoulders, and quickly shoved them into my pockets.

“I worked there last summer. Junior park ranger,”

I nodded dumbly, unsure of how to continue (maybe, _oh, that’s actually pretty cool. Hey, this is awkward, do you mind if I go throw myself off a bridge now? Cool? Thanks_ ). I was saved when Zoe threw her arms around my neck.

“Who is this?” she sing-sang, using my shoulders to push herself to the balls of her feet. “Aw, no pizza. It’s just…oh!” she cried, shoving me out of the way, “It’s Evan! Hi, Evan! _ALANA_! COME SEE EVAN!”

“Oh my God…” I groaned, burying my face in my hands as my sister and what felt like half the town gathered to gawk.

“Honey, you should’ve told us you had a friend coming over,” my mom scolded lightly, “I would’ve made more lasagna.”

**»»-------------¤-------------««**

Despite my protests, my mom all but dragged us into the dining room, heaping our plates with ill-gotten slices of lasagna.

“It’s vegan,” I whispered to Evan. He nodded, grimacing as he poked the lump with a fork. “You don’t have to eat it,” gratefully, he dropped the utensil, smiling almost shyly.

On the other side of the table, my mom squeezed in next to my father, beaming brighter than an exploding star. “This is so exciting! Connie never invites friends over anymore!”

“Or ever,” I mumbled under my breath. Somehow hearing me, her eyes narrowed and zeroed in on me like she was looking into my soul, in a way a hawk might watch its prey. It wasn’t hard to get her message: _behave._ I squirmed in my seat.

“How did you two meet? Do you two have classes together?” she bubbled on. I didn’t miss the _do_ in her sentence, as opposed to the grammatically correct _did because we pulled him out of there the second we knew it was hopeless. Oh, but whoops! Can’t have those gory details going public, right, Larry?_

“I, um…” Evan stammered, his face reddening under my parents gazes. I rolled my eyes and interjected as smoothly as I could.

“Yeah, we _had_ French together,” a lie, but she didn’t need to know that. “Evan’s just _so good_ at conjugating those verbs.”

Evan rocked slightly in his seat. “ _Tu ne prends pas de français avec moi, salope_ ,” he muttered. My mother perked up, and I kicked him under the table.

“ _Si_ ,”

“That’s wonderful, Evan! I didn’t even know Connie was taking French.”

“Your schedule said you were taking Latin.” my father cut in, eyeing me from over his milk.

I averted my gaze and stabbed my lasagna with my knife. Alana and Zoe shifted uncomfortably. One of them whispered something about pizza sounding awesome, after all, and I honestly couldn’t blame them. I tried to count down from ten in my head. “Schedules change, dad.”

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. Evan’s hands fumbled nervously in his lap, and I cursed myself. Just what I wanted him to see: a dramatic reenactment of the cold war, starring the Murphys. I quickly began trying to think of excuses to get the hell out of there.

My mom delicately placed her fork by her plate and folded her hands, her eyes sparkling obliviously. “All this excitement, I almost forgot the good news!”

Okay, well, that got my attention.

Dad wiped his mouth with his napkin, almost bored. “Is this really the best time, honey?”

“Why not? We’ve got out family and our friends all gathered.” she took his hand, and it hung limply between them. “Kids, sometimes…well, sometimes life gives you thunder and rain. It gives you storms to test you and your faith. But, if you stay strong and hold on,” she beamed, choking up, “The sun always comes. Darlings, I’m…I’m pregnant.”

I don’t know what reaction she was expecting, but she seemed almost confused by the shocked silent that met her announcement.  

“Well?” she urged eventually with a tinny laugh, “Say something!”

My ears were ringing, and my head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. I stood, my chair scraping against the floor.

“Congrats, I guess.”

And then I left.

I wasn’t even sure where I was going, I just let my feet take me wherever. The ringing wouldn’t go away and my face was hot, and then I found myself outside, running down the slick stairs with only a pair of holed socks. Even though it was freezing out, the chill barely touched me. I wanted to rip out my hair and scream. I wanted to run away, or sink into the ground like I never existed, like my parents wanted. I wanted to…to…

“Connor!” Evan called from behind me. It sounded to distant to be real, and I ignored it, my head tilted skyward. I imagined that a passing airplane was an alien ship, maybe coming to abduct me and take me away. As if I could be so lucky. “Connor, stop,” he tugged my sleeve, and I jumped, pulling away. Hurt flashed in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly I must’ve imagined it. Hesitantly, he brushed a hand across me cheek, like he was afraid of touching to hard. “You’re crying,” he said, like it was something wondrous.

“I’m not,” I replied stupidly, even though I was. I turned back around, and brushed away the wetness with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. “I’m just…I’m just―ugh!” I kicked at the recycling bin, and it toppled over, its contents spilling into the snow. “It’s just that it’s a goddamn Murphy factory up here! Oh, one broke? No problem, just fuck another one out a nine months later your family is good as new! _Fuck_!” I stamped me foot, which didn’t help the pain from kicking the bin much at all. I buried my face in my hands. Evan tried to put his hand on my shoulder, and I groaned, shrugging him off. “No, no! I…Evan, I can’t. I can’t do this anymore!”

He hastily pulled his hand away, and I swear him inwardly retreat, like a turtle drawing into its shell. Regret tugged in my gut, and I tried to stand firm, balling my fists at my side.

“W-what? Can’t do what?” he asked, a waver in his voice.

I squeezed my eyes shut, and guestered between us, trying to keep myself calm. I felt like I was on the edge of a cliff, with the wind blowing me which way and that as I teetered closer and close, the seconds ticking away until the inevitable fall. “ _This._ I can’t keep dragging you through the mud. You don’t―you don’t deserve that, Ev. You don’t deserve any of this. I’m sorry I ever dragged you into this mess.”

“What are you talking about?” he whispered, “Connor, I never…” he took a breath, cheeks red, and scuffed the ground with the heel of his shoe. “I like you. I really do, Connor. And I never felt like you were dragging me through anything.”

“I like you, too, Evan. Like, an embarrassing amount, and too much to keep doing this to you. I mean, seriously, what even is this? We’re not going to _Romeo And Juliet_ this shit, or Jack and Rose or whatever.  These kinds of things never end happily. Everyone gets fucked over in the end.”

That was the truth, wasn’t it? The truth that had hounded us throughout this entire shitty adventure, if you can even call it one. Still, even if I knew the whole time…it-it sucked. A lot. Neither of us could look the other in the eye, and I clenched my fist so hard my nails dug into my palm. I could feel the cold, now, and it bit at me like a scolding. My socks were fucking soaked, too, and that didn’t make me any less miserable, either.

 _Fucking say something, Connor_ , I thought bitterly.

But I didn’t. It was Evan who spoke first.

“It doesn’t have to be like that.”

I started, “What?”

“I mean…people write their own versions of _Romeo And Juliet_ all the time. _Warm Bodies, Romeo Must Die_ ―even _Titanic_ is one, right? We just have to make our own ending.” he bit his lip.

“Like… _Gnomeo And Juliet_?” I tried, stupidly. Evan laughed weakly, but it was quickly cut off by a strangled sort of sound. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hands, and my heart sank to my feet, and the next thing I knew I had awkwardly gathered him in my arms, holding him so tight I could feel his heart beating next to mine out of time. It only took a second before he returned the embrace, his nose cold against my neck. “Evan, I’m going to die.”

He nodded, “B-but we all are, Connor. We c-can’t let that stop us from living,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why,,,,,,the fuck,,,,,,was this so hard to write,,,,,,


	8. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I get yelled at a lot for there not being enough fluff, so here it is you dirty animals,,,,,  
> it's only, like, a month late

“Connor!” Zoe hollered, barreling down the path towards me. Evan and I had just awkwardly untangled ourselves, and now I found myself in yet another hug. Needless to say, this didn’t happen a lot. Zoe buried her face in my shoulder. “That was awful! Mo-that _woman_ is wretched. I can’t b-believe they would just―”

And then, to my amazement and confusion, she started crying. Alana hesitantly rubbed her back, and Zoe let go of me to turn into her girlfriend’s embrace. Evan tugged on the back of my jacket, and pointed. Beyond the window, my father had begun to pace the dining room floor. He weaved in and out of view, and I knew he would come charging out any minute.

It made me mad, to see him pacing like that, like he had a right to be upset. He passed the window again, and this time my mother followed, her hands buried in her hair and her face red and strained like she was yelling at him. It was a familiar sight.

“Hey,” I asked dryly, “how does pizza sound to everyone?”

Not a moment to soon we piled into Alana’s car. My dad shouted at us from the house, and in the rearview mirror I watched as he tried to follow us. In vain, of course. Alana―left him in her dust. Zoe shook with laughter.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, cackling, “I can never go back. Con, we can _never_ go back!’”

And, well, that sounded pretty good to me. As Larry was engulfed by darkness and distance, I collapsed against my seat, feeling as though I could fall into a coma right then and there. It was an interesting thought―if I was in a coma, would my tumor grow just as fast?

Actually, I didn’t want to think about that.

I reached for Evan’s hand, grasping it delicately like I wasn’t sure if it was allowed. He said it was fine. He said he liked me, too. But still, the current situation was…less than ideal. The ’meet the parents’ ordeal hadn’t exactly gone so well, either. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was wondering if crazy ran in the family.  He took it, though, surprised as he was by the action.

We considered picking up Jared on our way, an idea that was quickly shut down when Evan informed us that Jared was hanging out with his boyfriend, Link, that night, a scene we _might_ not want to walk in on. Alana’s house was about thirty minutes away, and the car ride was mostly silent. The radio in Alana’s car didn’t work, but she had her ipod jacked in, and a podcast was left to play quietly over the speakers. The man’s voice was coarse and low, but he used a lot of words I didn’t understand like _epicotyl_ and _xerophyte_. Evan seemed pleased to be nodding along to it, and struck up a hushed conversation with Alana. I didn’t mind.

Alana lived in the kind of house that you only really see on TV. It even had a white picket fence, for God’s sake. She jiggled her key into the lock, and shoved the door open, mumbling about how it needed to be fixed. We were greeted at the door by a German Shepherd wearing a pink bandana around its neck. The dog  jumped up so its paws were on her shoulders, and began to rather aggressively lick her face.

"Baby!" She cried, affectionately kissing the dog's nose. Baby barked happily, and I took an involuntary step back. Evan caught my arm, grinning evilly.

"You're afraid of dogs?" He whispered, eyes sparkling.

"No!" I hissed defensively, "That's just...a really big dog."

Zoe snorted. "Connor is the reason I never got the puppy I wanted for Christmas. Fuck you for that, by the way."

“Alana? Is that you honey?” her mother called. I recognized her from some of the barbeques the Beck’s sometimes had and I was forced to go to. Plus, she was the head of the school board.

Grace Beck was a softly-framed woman with a timeless sort of face framed by hair that was even curlier than her daughter’s, if that was even possible. Everything about her was quietly dignified, from the tightly packed bun tied at the back of her head to her purple cardigan and wire-framed glasses. She smiled sweetly when she saw them huddled in the hall, and I felt suddenly self-conscious of my superman pjs and over-worn sweatshirt.

“I see you’ve met Baby.” she snapped her fingers, and the dog scampered over to her side, tail wagging frantically. “It’s nice to see you again, Connor. How have you been feeling?”

I blushed under the weight of her genuine concern. “Um, fine. Thanks.”

She nodded, satisfied. “That’s good. You’re always welcome here, you know. It’s so good to see Alana playing with her friends. Evan, right?” her eyes landed on the blonde at my side, and he squeezed my hand, which I hadn’t before realized had been clasped with his.  
“Y-yes ma’am.” he muttered, barely audible. She smiled in spite of this.

“I went to school with your mother. Heidi is a great woman. I’m sorry to leave so soon, but I just got called into work, but there’s some leftovers in the fridge. Feel free to take whatever.” she hurried over and we parted like the Red Sea to let her pass. She quickly kissed Alana’s forehead, threw another smile over her shoulder, and was gone out the door.

I don’t think any of us missed the way Alana’s eyes lingered on the door almost…longingly. Zoe whispered something in here ear, and Alana jumped, startled. She flushed and hastily pasted a smile on her face, but it was too wobbly, too wide and bright, like a toddler’s arts and crafts project.

“L-leftovers sound good to everyone? I think I saw some pizza in the freezer…”

Zoe smiled and grabbed both of her hands. “That sounds great. C’mon, let’s go get it started. I’m _starving_. I swear to God, I’ll never eat meatloaf again. Con, do you and Evan want to wait in the living room?” she narrowed her eyes like a warning, but she didn’t need to tell me twice. Evan fidgeted for a second as though he wanted to intervene or say something but didn’t stop the couple as they walked towards the kitchen, leaning together.                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

Evan and I started in the other direction towards the living room. Alana’s living room was as pristine as the rest of the house. I lived in an honest-to-God _mansion_ and yet, looking at the large white couch and never-been-touched armchair, I felt like even looking at the room was akin to holding a pinless grenade filled with grape jelly.

“Jesus. And I thought my mom was anal about cleaning.” I muttered. Evan nodded in agreement.

“Everything here looks straight out of the Sears catalog,”

It was an odd way to word it, but yeah, pretty much. I felt dumb for feeling so self-conscious and, as nonchalantly as I could, collapsed against the white couch. Evan hesitantly followed suit, gingerly balancing next to me.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. He broke the silence first by blurting, “Connor, about your mom--”

I held up my hand, cutting him off. “No. Just…can we not talk about that, please?” I grimaced, “I mean, I just want to not think about it. For just one night. I just…I want to hang out with you, be chill with you. Make like we’re happy, even if it’s only for a night. Please?”

He hesitated, but nodded like a solemn oath. I glanced around the room, searching for something to say.

“So, your mom grew up here too, huh?”

Evan rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, y-yeah. My parents were highschool sweethearts. She got married and so shotgun wedding was like their only option. She’s never even crossed state lines.”

I almost panicked just thinking about it. The thought of never leaving this shithole town used to keep me up at night. Now what scares me is the assuredness of it: _I was never leaving this shithole town_.

“Connor? Are…are you alright?” Evan asked.

“Yeah, that just really sucks. I mean,” I hastily tried to backpedal, “You’re great! Very glad for your, um, birth, but the general…”

He bit his lip and for just a moment I thought he might cry. Then he burst into laughter, his smile like the first rays of sun breaking over the mountain. I flushed, embarrassed but happy all the same.  

“Do you want to watch tv or something? We could pick out a movie to watch once they’re done with the pizza.”

“S-sure.”

I grabbed the remote and began to flip through Alana’s Netflix. She had some…interesting things on her watch list.

“ _9/11: The Conspiracy_ ?” I mused, barely suppressing my grin. To my surprise, Evan’s eyes widened excitedly. I faked a groan. “Hansen, _no_! Don’t tell me you’re a tinfoil-wearing Illuminate-stan?”

He blushed but didn’t back down. “9/11,” he stated firmly, “was an _inside_ job.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Serious as the Roswell Incident.”

I shook my head, mystified. “I can’t believe this. I can’t fucking believe this! My boyfriend is conspiracy junky!”

“Hey!” he held up his finger, lips parted in a smile. “Your boyfriend is a conspiracy _theorist_.”

I think it took us both a second to realize what we had just said, and when we did, Evan suddenly became very interested in the contents of Alana’s Netflix.

“So…if I wanted to, say, _kiss_ my boyfriend. Like, wanted it very,very much. What would I have to do?”

“I don’t k-know. I guess you’d have to a-ask him.” he turned to face me, his mouth quirked slightly in a cock-sure grin, and in that moment I knew he, Evan Hansen with his cute polo and his hidden impishness, his adorably random tree facts and his totally-not sweaty hands, was going to be the death of me.

Two could play at that game.

I shifted closer, resting my hand beside him on the couch. He jumped and I grinned, leaning in until I could count his freckles if I wanted to (I did. I really did) and could see the flecks of green in his eyes. His eyes which dated briefly to my lips before he looked away again, tensing. “Evan…”

“Y-yeah?”

I slowly raised my hand, pointer finger out, and bopped his nose, falling back against the couch when the job was finished. I smirked, and continued flipping through the channels. Evan sat rigid, his face redder than a tomato and him just as articulate. It seemed like he might sit like that forever, and I sighed dramatically. Then, as quickly but as softly as I could, I cupped his face with my hands and pressed my lips to his. After a second of hesitation he responded eagerly, deepening the kiss and pulling us both back until I was pressed against his warm body. It was sloppy and maybe a little wet but I didn’t really care. His lips parted in something like a whimper and I completely ruined everything by pulling away to laugh.

Evan scrambled to sit up, his normally perfect hair more than a little ruffled. As he fumbled with the bottom of his shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I-I don’t know what I was doing and I’m sorry if it was really bad that was literally my third kiss and my first was with you and ohmyGodthat’sembarrasingIdidn’tmeantosaythatI’msorryI’msorryI-”

“Woah!” I grabbed his wrists, still a little bit breathless. “I’m not-I wasn’t laughing at _you_.”

He paused, finally meeting my eyes. “W-what?” he asked suspiciously.

I rolled my eyes and took ahold of his hands. “You’re clueless,” I told him, to which he mumbled a reply that sounded something like _well, generally, yeah_ . “No, I mean. Jesus, Hansen. You’re really cute. I was _laughing_ because it was cute how confused you were and, yeah, it was a bit crazy that you were actually letting me kiss you.”

His lips parted and then _he_ was kissing _me_. And yeah.

It was pretty great.

At least it _was_ until someone coughed not-so-subtly behind us. I huffed in an annoyance and drew away. Evan, much more embarrassed then annoyed like I was, jumped. Zoe and Alana were standing in the doorway. The latter was holding a ginormous bowl of popcorn, and her eyes were a little red. Neither of them looked to impressed.

“On my mother’s furniture, Connor?” Alana snapped playfully, walking over just to throw popcorn at me. “Classy.”

“Wha-hey!” I squawked, “Evan helped!”

The girls shared a look, and shook their heads. In perfect harmony the droned, “Nah.” and plopped down next to us on the couch, forcing me to move closer to Evan to make room for them. Not that I minded, of course.

“What are we watching?” Zo asked, nestling into Alana’s side. “Connor isn’t allowed to pick. He made me watch a two hour documentary on seals last time.”

“Seals! Oh yee the blubbery Gods of the seas!” I trumpeted grandly, raising my fist to the sky.

She scowled, amused by my fine Shakespearean acting. “Yeah,” she said dryly, “but no.”

“S-sucks because C-Connor was really excited to watch that d-documentary on 911 conspiracy theories,” Evan piped up from beside me, his face round and innocent. But while Alana hatily clicked on the documentary despite Zoe’s protests ( _“Looks like it’s three to one, babe!”_ ) he shot an evil smirk my way.

Demon. Really adorable and really kissable demon.

Whatever. We watched the movie, and it honestly wasn’t so bad. After fifteen minutes or so Evan rested his head on my shoulder and I intertwined our hands, letting the girls eat the popcorn so they wouldn’t get gross and buttery. The oven dinged not long after, and Alana popped up to get it. I was so engrossed in the documentary that I was jolted when Evan got up to follow her.

“Where are you going?” I whispered, grabbing his wrist. He fidgeted, eyes following Alana’s figure as she navigated her way to the door through the darkness.

“I-I’ll be back in a second.” he promised. And he was, laughing quietly with Alana as he carried in the pizza. I don’t know what they talked about but Alana seemed to stand a little straighter, and smile a little brighter when my sister kissed her cheek when we sat down to eat. I squeezed Evan’s hand.

It’s funny how small things can change your whole world view. I mean, I wasn’t so sure, but Bush totally did 9/11. And the more you know, the more likely you are to be hunted by the CIA.


	9. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LORDIE. I go from not updating for a whole month to a chapter THIS MONSTER. She is 4916 words so....buckle up, I guess.

 

“Thank you all for coming. This tragedy is so potent and fresh in our hearts, and it is so important that we band together in this hour of darkness so that we may emerge stronger on the other side,”

I blinked hazily, confused. Where _was_ I? Sure, I had a lot of weird experiences of waking up in places I definitely shouldn’t be after a bender or two, but I had never before ended up in a _church_ of all places. I squinted at the scene before me. A church…in the middle of a wake?

The boy began to speak again, and my attention snapped to him. My eyes widened. The speaker was _Evan_ , dressed neatly in a dark suit with a blue tie hanging tightly from his neck. His eyes were pained but his expression was set perfectly neutral. He didn’t stutter on a single word.

“I only knew him for a short time, but in that time, I would like to think we bonded.” he smiled, but it was cold. “A special bond. He was my best friend. I mean, he really was a dick, too. Who gets cancer and immediately thinks, _oh, you know what I should do now? Fuck up someone else's life by pretending to be in love with them and then_ dying.” his eyes snapped to mine, unseeing, and my heart stopped in my chest. “But I guess we can’t speak badly of the dead. The deceased sister would like to say a few words. Zoe?”

I spun around frantically as my sister walked to the front, her face covered by a black veil. Evan stepped aside for her to take the stand and she did, lifting the veil delicately from her tear-stained face.

“Connor was my big brother. And an asshole. He used to tell me he would kill me, and, honestly, I’m glad he’s the one who’s dead and not me. I would’ve taken a hit out on him anyway for screwing up my life so much. He was such a fucking freak.” her eyes passed right over me like I wasn’t even there, and I glanced around. Everyone was nodding along solemnly. My mother, who was standing off to the side, wiped tars away with a lacy black handkerchief.

“He was such a disappointment.” she whispered. “Everything about him. His faggot lifestyle, his moodiness. The drugs. I wish he had been born a girl.”

“I would’ve had a sister,” Zoe added solemnly.

“I would've had a real girlfriend.”

I tried to stand but it was like something was holding me down. When I tried to cry out, it was only a whimper, and even that felt like someone was trying to clean my throat with sandpaper.

“Where are you going, Connor?” Evan called. Every eye in the room snapped to me, and I felt the weight of them like heavy linked chains. “It’s your party,”

They started towards me, their arms outstretched. I felt myself being lifted, and I started to panic, my heart in my throat as I spun out of control in the air, trying to grasp for anything ( _anything_ ) to hold onto as I flew towards the wooden coffin at the front of the church.

I slammed into it, and the last thing I saw before the lid closed and forced me into darkness so potent it was like someone had taken a straw and sucked every bit of light from the world, was Evan’s too-pale face as he whispered, _“Sweet dreams, Connor.”_

~=~

 

“Sweet dreams, Connor?” Zoe smirked. I shot awake, almost hitting her as I sat up. She yelped and then cursed as I rubbed my head where a spark of a headache was slowly igniting. “Jesus! Sheesh, sorry for interrupting your sex dream, but you don’t need to kill me for it.”

I blinked and then blushed as I realized what she was saying. “I wasn’t-I was just-” I grimaced, and she laughed wickedly.

“You were muttering your boyfriends name. I’m not stupid.” she made a face, “I wish I was. Ya nasty.”

I rolled my eyes and pushed my covers away. I felt gross and grimy all over, and desperately wanted a shower. “What time is it?” I asked, gagging at the taste in my mouth. Zoe hit me with a pillow and I swatted at her. She grinned.

“It’s like twelve. Your phone has been blowing up for the past hour.” I grabbed for my phone to check, but she was faster, and waved it over her head. “Uh uh! First you have to agree to my terms.”

A year ago I might’ve grabbed the phone anyways and yelled at her to get out of my room, but now I just sighed. “Tell me what they are and we’ll see.”

“Take Alana and I out? We haven’t been able to go on a date for weeks because of all her clubs and homework and stuff, and I think dad and mom are beginning to suspect.” the corners of her lips dipped sadly, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her hair, a self-conscious tic we both have.

“You really want your weirdo brother moping around on your date?” I teased halfheartedly, hazily remembering the dream I had just woken up from. _I would’ve taken a hit out on him anyway for screwing up my life so much._

It was dumb. After all, it was just a dream. I couldn’t help think, however, of it as…I don’t know, some sort of an omen or prophecy or some shit?

What were people going to have left of me when I died? A few wrinkled Green Day posters and a stupid, unfinished bucket list that I had picked up from the floor and shoved into my drawer on a fantisial whim?

Zoe rolled her eyes and punched my shoulder half-heartedly, more tender than annoyed, like she knew something was wrong. “No, dipshit. It will be fun. You can be a cover for my queerness and we can get some time to hang out. Hey!” she brightened, “Maybe you should invite Evan? It can be a double date! And Jared, too. I’ve been talking with him around school more. He’s a weird guy. Kind of an asshole, but, like, a funny asshole.”

I grinned at that spot-on summary. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. We can go to the mini-golf place on Main Street, and get dinner or some shit before.”  

She beamed and threw her arms around me, surprising us both by the sudden burst of unprompted affection. I patted her arm. This was the second time in a little less than a month we had hugged, and fifth in maybe thirteen years. Still, it was nice, and warmth buzzed it my chest.

Zoe hastily let go, even though I wish she hadn’t. “Great. Um, thanks. Take a shower first ‘cause you kinda stink. If we’re getting dinner first we don’t have to leave for awhile, so do you want to, I don’t know, have a Star Trek marathon or something?” she peeked up almost nervously at me from under a veil of hair, and I swallowed back the lump growing back in my throat. This. All these years I had been missing out on this and destroying every chance I had to fix it. I forced a wide grin.

“Sounds great, Zo. Make some popcorn, I’ll be down in a sec.”

I ruffled her hair and she made a sound of disgust, scampering out of the room with only a small glance and then a curious smile back. I fell back against my bed as soon as she had gone. My fingers closed on the phone laying, abandoned, beside me, and I picked it up. Zoe was right: as I soon as I swiped the screen to life it was alight with messages and new notifications.

Which was, well, _new_.

It was Evan who had sent the messages. After last time we had finally exchanged numbers, because only getting to see each other once a month? It was getting old. We had been meeting up more frequently-going to the theater, to get milkshakes or the like-over the past month, but not as much as I would’ve liked to on account of both of our schedules. There was a lot to work on with my hospital appointments, Evan’s school and therapy, and the days that I just felt too damn shitty to see anyone, especially him.

_From Evan: You’re a fucking furry Connor Murphy and you’re not fooling anyone. I see you. I see you and your blue fursona costume with a tide pod between your fanged teeth._

_From Evan: I see you._

_From Evan: Dear Connor Murphy I should tell you that I think of you each night. I rub my nipples and staGLATDLTaaaaaaaaaa_

_From Evan: OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD I AM SO SORRY JARED GOT MY PHONE AND HE’S AN ASSHOLE. OH GOD I AM SO SORRY PLEASE DON’T BREAK UP WITH ME I DON’T THINK YOU’RE A FURRY I AM SO SOhhhhhhhhdj;;;;;;,mkjzzz_

_From Evan: Lies. All lies. Dear Connor Murphy I lovveeee you I want to beee with you I want to fuuucasdlfgdfltfdddd_

The messages ended there, and I through my phone across the room, howling with laughter.

“Jesus fucking Christ! Jesus fucking Christ!” I cackled, so much so that my mother poked her head into my room, a smile curling at the edges of her lips. We hadn’t talked much since her little…announcement, but I couldn’t stop myself from pointing to the phone as I smothered my laughter by biting down on my hand before I could choke on the mirth of it. She bit her lip to stifle her giggles when she read it, handing the phone back to me with a smile. She smoother my hair down with her hand, dimming slightly as she did so but not hesitating to try and land a kiss on my forehead. I half heartedly batted her away, typing out a quick reply to Evan and then deleting it immediately. I would just laugh at him later.

I think I had a new bucket-list.

 

~=~

 

Zoe and I watched Star Trek until our eyes were numb and our brains were beginning to melt out of our heads. She fell asleep on my shoulder three times, starting awake like someone had shocked her each tie and drooling quite a it. I didn’t forget to send a picture to Evan, as a sort of apology for missing all his messages earlier. By the time five o’clock rolled around, my mom was all but shoving us out of the house, tutting about how we were destroying our brains with all that television. When I pointed out that my brain was destroying itself and the antics of Spongebob had nothing to do with it, she grimaced, not finding it quite so funny as Zoe and I did.

“Oh, you-you hush, Connor. Go! Have a nice time with your boyfriend.” her eyes twinkled conspiratorial, and she glanced around before leaning closer to whisper to me, “And Zoe with her girlfriend,”

I gaped, “You know?”

“Well, _duh_. I’m not blind like your father. But don’t tell her. She’ll come out in her own time.” she beamed, and patted my cheek. “I love you so much, darling.You such a good brother.” almost unconsciously her left hand settled on her stomach, and I turned away to follow Zoe out the door, my stomach turning. At the end of the year, Zoe might not _have_ a big brother. She would have a little one, or maybe a sister. A little Murphy who would grow up and never know me outside of a few dumb photographs and an empty bedroom at the end of the hall. I wasn’t the big brother of the year, I know. I hoped Zo treated Little Murphy better than I had her. They were going to have a hard time growing up in this madhouse.

I _did_ have my own car. Technically. It’s just that, when I could, I avoided driving. There were a lot of reasons, such as being way to adhd to sit still for long periods of time in the car with nothing but road, road, and more road, but specifically the time when I just about wrapped my Lexus around a Kentucky coffee tree made me hesitate every time to get behind the wheel. I still drove, mind, I just did not enjoy it and, to quote Zoe quoting one of our favorite movies, I drove, _“like old people have sex”_.

Anyways, Zoe drove us as we went along our way to pick up our respective dates (and Jared). She couldn’t stop talking about how excited she was to see Alana and how much fun we were all going to have, how great jazz band was going and _“Con you’re seriously going to die for our concert-we’re doing_ Like Someone In Love _, remember that one?”_.

Of course, I didn’t mind.

It was adorable to see the way her face brightened as Alana tumbled down the steps, stumbling under the weight of a giant box. She grinned dorkily, embarrassed, and climbed into the front seat. She was just wearing jeans and a purple t-shirt (the most plain thing I had ever seen her in) but Zoe looked at her like she was Cinderella on her way to the ball, all dressed up and sparkling from the Fairy Godmother’s magic.

“Hi!” she beamed, struggling to buckle her seat-belt around the box. “I brought my ball and shoes and I am ready to strike out!!” she frowned briefly, “Which is…a good thing in bowling, right?”

Zoe laughed and leaned over to give her a quick peck on the cheek. “Your fine. And you know they give you shoes at the place, right?”

Alana made a face and snorted in derisive disgust, “Yeah, I’m not running the risk of athlete’s foot or some other disgusting disease from God-knows what microorganisms living in those nasty shoes. Oh, cookies.”

L9ke that was an announcement that I would understand, she threw a bag into my lap. I jumped and then whooped. Alana’s chocolate chip cookies were my reason for living.

“Thanks Alana,” I (tried) to say around the mouthful of chocolatey goodness. The girlfriends groaned in unison.

“Boys. Are. So. _Gross_.”

“Speaking of boys, here comes your’s Con,”

I blushed, “H-he’s not _my_ boy! He is his own individual-hey, Evan!” I squealed as he scrambled into the seat next to mine, and Jared slammed the door on my other side.

“Go!” he hissed frantically, clawing at his seat belt, “GogogoGO!”

My eyes widened but when I looked to Evan for help, he slunk down in his seat, his shoulders shaking with laughter even as he picked at his cuticles nervously. Before I could ask what happened I spotted Heidi Hansen herself running down the drive, shaking an empty tray. Even Zoe got the cue, and fumbled to get us _out of there_.

“MY OREOS JARED KLEINMAN!” Heidi yelled. I think I saw some crows fly out from their hiding spot in the trees. “MY _GODDAMNED_ OREOS!”

As soon as we were a safe distance from the dangerous claws of Evan’s mom and her empty tray of Oreos, Jared felt it was safe to burst into laughter. I was not so amused. “What the fuck just happened?”

“Jared ate all my mom’s Oreos, and her secret stash.” Evan answered, rolling his eyes and then smiling up at me tiredly. “After making me stay up all night playing Halo. And drinking all of our milk,”

“Oh my God!” Zoe jumped in, “Connor does that all the time! Literally, like, everyday. It totally sucks,”

Unable to recite the perfect opportunity, I muttered under my breath, “Yeah, but so do I…”

Unluckily for me, Jared heard. He grinned. “Kinky.”

“Funny. That’s what your mom said last night.”

Evan laughed and grabbed my hand. “I’m s-scared to go back. She really loves Oreos. I m-might have to stay the night at your house to w-wait her out,” he suggested, grinning impishly. Jared laughed and mumbled I-think-you-know-what under his breath.

“I might have to agree with Kleinman on this one. At least take me out to dinner first.” I teased.

Evan blushed, “I-I have. Several times, r-remember?”

“Oh, yeah. What’s this about my fursona, by the way?” I asked, pulling out the evidence. Evan pulled his hand out of mine so he could cover his blush-stained face.

“Jared.” he snapped, an accusation and an explanation. A pretty good one, too. For both, I mean. Jared shrugged, remorseless.

“I won’t quit until I have outed you, Murphy. It’s my new mission in life.”

“Guess my secret’s out,” I droned blandly, “my squirrel fursona comes to light.”

“Oh, really? A squirrel? That’s perfect because Evan is a fucking acorn and we know how much squirrels love to eat acorns.” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“KLEINMAN.”

“Murphy.”

“Beck.” Zoe said gravelly, dropping her voice.

“Murphy.”

“H-Hansen?”

Everyone laughed.

“You get a cookie for that, Evan. Connor, give your boyfriend a cookie.” Zoe demanded.

I gave him a cookie, and he grinned, victorious. “I-I’d like to thank the Academy,” he drolled, biting into it and practically moaning.

“Y’all are so kinky,” Jared yelled when Evan blushed, hitting the back of Zoe’s seat to her annoyance. “Gimme one of those,”

Evan handed him the bag, muttering praise to Alana about how good the cookies were. The three of us had demolished the bag by the time we made it to Applebee’s and we had to hold back Jared from eating the bag, _“Just so we can make sure all the crumbs are accounted for!”_

“Get the crumbs on your face, first,” I snapped, snatching the bag from his hand. “You’ve got practically a whole tray there.”

He flushed and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“We’re here!” Zoe singsonged as she parked, unbuckling with glee.

“Thanks God,” Jared muttered, wiping away the last of the crumbs, “I’m starving.”

 

~=~

 

“And then he blew out the wick _and bit down on the c-candle._ The e-entire class was screaming! A-and Mr. D just kept chewing like nothing was wrong!” Evan took a breath, his face open and excited, “Turns out the ‘candle’ was a cheese stick with an almond slice as a wick. But we were horrified.”

“Oh yeah. Evan was practically pissing himself with anxiety.”

“Your falsetto had Sarah Brightman shaking, Jared.” Evan shot back, grinning.

Jared dipped the last breadstick in marinara sauce, shamelessly shoveling it into his mouth. “As she should be.”

Alana wiped her hands on her napkin, crinkling it into a white ball and placing it onto her plate. “While I would love to talk about my avid dislike of Sarah Brightman-”

“Why do you hate Sarah Brightman?” Jared cut in, confused.

“My avid _dislike_ of Sarah Brightman, we should probably get the check and get going. The mini-golf place doesn’t stay open all night.”

We all agreed and I sat back as Zoe reached into her purse to pull out her credit card. I had payed for our last meal, and so she had agreed to pick up the tab on this one. Not that it mattered much, anyways, since it was our parents money (the sweetest spent).

Evan began fumbling in the pocket of his sweatshirt, mumbling something under his breath that I couldn’t hear. It sounded like he was doing math, but that probably wasn't right. I nudged him with my elbow, and he jumped, looking up with wide eyes.

“What are you doing?” I murmured, for his benefit. I didn’t think the others were watching, anyways.

“M-my mom gave me some money, a-and I brought some of my own to h-help pay for the tab. I-I think I’ve got enough but it’s sort of, um,” he laughed nervously and held out a handful of quarters, tilting his head slightly, “scattered. S-sorry.”

I closed my hand over his and for a second he pushed back, like he was waiting for me to take the change. I lowered it, instead, dropping my voice. “Evan, you don’t have to pay for anything. It’s fine. Zoe and I have got the bill.”

He lowered his eyes. “I-I’ve got-I’m not p-just take it,”

“Evan. No. It’s my treat.” I shook my head of the confusion clouding my brain. Why was he being so weird about this?

“C-Connor.” he mumbled, bringing out a wad of crumpled cash and putting it into my hand under the table, like we were dealing drugs or something. Suddenly, it dawned on me. What he was doing, why he was so adamant on paying. Evan didn’t exactly wear designer clothes, and his house, from what I had seen, had seemed (to put it kindly) homey.

“Evan, let us pay for this now, and… we can get ice cream later, how about? Your treat?” I suggested slowly.

Evan raised his eyes suspiciously, his fingers twitching as I put the money back into his palm. He seemed to realize what I was doing, and nodded grudgingly.

“N-next time,” he agreed, like a warning, “my treat.”

He shoved the money back in his pocket just as Zoe was finishing up with paying using the small machine on the table. She ripped away the check and shoved it mindlessly into her bag. “Everyone ready?”

A word about Jumping Jack’s Arcade and Indoor Mini-Golf Center. Jack’s in the oldest, only, and (by default, I guess) largest arcade in Lincoln. It is a haunt mainly frequented by thirteen or fourteen year-olds looking for a place to eat pizza that tastes like it was dunked in a toilet bowl and flushed a few times before plating and to play D&D. Also drug dealers. Jack himself was a burly bike type--someone who, is Jared so eloquently whispered in my ear as we walked in, looked like the human form of Dennis the Hitman from the classic Nickelodeon film, _The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie_. I pushed him off of me, hating him for how spot on the observation was.

“Are you here for arcade or mini golf?” Jack growled. I don’t think he _meant_ to growl, it was just the way he was.

Zoe stepped forward, waving a twenty dollar bill in the air. “Mini golf for five.”

Jumping Jack’s was split into two rooms, the smallest holding the not-so well stocked arcade and the larger the mini-golf which was, indeed, _mini_ . At most six-hundred square feet, it’s floor was carpeted with green. Some of the tracks were elevated, one had a small fountain that substituted the waterfall an outdoor course might boast, and another had a very, very tiny windmill that was more humorous then practical as its hole was only twice the size it needed to be for the ball to fit. The room was dark, too. With no natural light it relied heavily on the artificial light coming from the attractions themselves, lights that made the room dance the colors of a clown’s nightmare. There was also the ever-present smell of artificial nacho cheese that hung in the air, giving the room the perfect, wow-ing feeling of _I need to bath in hand sanitizer after this._ So _much hand sanitizer_.

It was pretty great.

Playing mini-golf as a Murphy is exhausting both physically and mentally, so much so that, when we were twelve years old, my sister and I both put our foot (feet?) down against our father taking us mini-golfing bimonthly. We were all to competitive, but Larry especially. He would always, without fail, buy the winner the largest ice cream they wanted in whatever flavor. When _he_ won, we had to buy _him_ the ice cream.

And he did win. Every. Goddamned. Time.

“BALLS!” Zoe shouted, miming throwing her club at me. Evan flinched sympathetically, but I hardly moved, my smile wide and (I’ll admit) smugly. “You’re cheating!” she accused, ramming her finger into my chest. I let her, sticking out my tongue slightly. “There’s no way!”

“You’re right. I’m sorry I’m so perfect. Evan, you’re up.”

Evan groaned, “I-I don’t know. I’m pretty far behind. I d-don’t think there’s anyway I could catch up to a-any of you.”

Jared patted his shoulder, “We get it, you suck. Don’t worry, you’ve still got the whole puppy-eyed-baby thing going for you.”

Evan scowled, and dragged his club towards his ball. He swung, and the best thing I could say was that he hit it. He had trouble doing even that in the beginning, so thumbs up for character development, I guess. However, instead of hitting it into the hole of the windmill, the ball ricocheted of the spoke, falling back down to the ground with a thump and rolling back even further. We all groaned.

“Take another shot, Ev.” Zoe encouraged, “Connor, help your boyfriend.”

“Saying _help your boyfriend_ isn't a magic phrase, you know,” I muttered, walking over to help Evan anyways. He blushed when I gently placed one hand on his side and the other just above his on the club, helping him get into some semblance of a position so he wasn't just swinging blindly (funny as it was to watch the Tiger Woods in the making), and I grinned. “This is kind gay.”

“F-fuck off, so are you.” he murmured. I poked his stomach and he laughed breathily, making my heart bounce and then dive straight into my stomach.

He bit his lip, his full concentration on the ball. He swung and…

“ _FINALLY! YES, EVAN!_ ” Jared whooped, pushing me out of the way to grab Evan in a victorious hug.

Evan didn’t even come close to winning, but he did beat Jared.

After we dropped Jared off at his house, I turned to Evan. “Hey, um, since Jared did eat all your Oreos-”

He grinned, “A criminal offense,”

“Right. And your house is no doubt a dangerous place to be right now, at least, until we get your poor mother some more snacks, do you want to maybe…I don’t know, stay at mine?”

“Oh. Oh! Um, like a sleepover?”

“I mean, I’ve never used the word _sleepover_ out of context of teenage girls with feather pillows, but I guess.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “S-sure, that sounds fun.”

So Evan Hansen came over to my house and it totally wasn’t awkward or the beginning of a very weird porno. It was…fun. We watched some movies with the girls, staying up much longer then they until we were so tired we had to practically carry each other up the stairs. And Evan Hansen slept in my bed, which, again, wasn’t either of the things listed. My childhood twin bed was much to small for the two of us, but both of us were two tired to complain and, really, it just gave us an excuse to huddle closer. Evan yawned and leaned against my chest. He must’ve been delirious with sleep because he twisted the strings of my sweatshirt around his fingers and said, “Thank you.”

“What?”

He shook his head like he didn’t want to explain and placed a sloppy kiss on my neck. After awhile, I closed my eyes, thinking he had fallen asleep. I opened them when he began again.

“I just…I used to be so afraid of being myself. Whatever I did I had to be sure no one would be able to see who I actually was because-because I knew no one would be able to like it. Like me. Why would they? I’m me and I’m annoying and reserved and sometimes snappish and self-conscious about vain. Like, who wants that? But when I’m with you I’m all that and I’m-I’m happy.”

“But that’s just you. I never wanted anything _but_ you, Hansen. Evan.”

“Me, too. About you. I just-thank you, Connor,” he buried his face in my shirt, like he was afraid to meet my eyes. “For letting me be me. And letting me know you and fall in l-fall in like with you.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I raised my hand to his back, rubbing in slow circles. The glow stars on my ceiling glowed dully, nothing compared to the actual sky, with stars so bright and so hot they would burn you and our world and never burn themselves. With stars that died thousands of years ago but live on as memories, false Gods reminding us of our ancestors and how we are not the first to live. We are not the first to die, to cry, to feel pain and to suffer and to laugh and to sing and dance. The first to love like this, love so infinitely the stars thirst for it and implode in their jealousy.

Evan lifted his head from my chest, his blue eyes twinkling like the velvety night sky, and when he softly whispered, _“I’m so happy right now,”_ without a stutter or without blushing and contradicting himself, my stomach tumbled and I kissed him like it was the solar eclipse and he was the sun and I was the moon and we wouldn’t see each other for eighteen more months. I felt the creation of the universe. Galaxy were born and supernovas exploded in my chest.

“Me, too.”

That was the best day of my life, and I swore I would hold onto it with my last dying breath, soon as I may draw it.


	10. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WILL UPDATE SOON I SWEAR. NOT LIKE IN A WEEK BUT SOON NOT ANOTHER MONTH BUT STILL IT'S HERE AND I LOVE THE END SO YEE

 

I was checked into the hospital maybe a week or two afterwards. I had been feeling woozy the day of my admission, apparently slurring a lot. My parents were already talking about whether or not to bring me in when I collapsed face first into my cheerios. I’m pretty glad Zoe was there to pull me back up, because drowning in a bowl of soggy, ass flavored cereal wasn’t my ideal way to go. Even still, I heard her worriedly tease me about it on the way to the hospital as I drifted in an out of reality and she tried her best to keep me awake.

It wasn’t enough, and I was pretty far gone by the time I reached the hospital.

I don’t know. I guess it just fucking sucked.

I mean, it had barely been ten months and my mother was in the corner crying because the doctor had stopped by to talk hospice care. 

Zoe poked her head into my room, her eyes widening to see our mother crying in the corner. She shot me an accusatory glare and I shrugged like,  _ hey, blame the cancerous lump, not me. _

I should get that on a tee-shirt. 

“Mom, Con; Evan’s here.”

My eyes narrowed. “Why?” I demanded, “Why the fuck is he here?”

“Jesus Connor,” she hissed, “he’s literally in the hall. What’s your problem?”

“Why is he here?” I repeated. Zoe threw up her hands, and my mother hurriedly wiped her eyes, ready to step in at any moment.

“Fuck, Connor, I thought you might want to see him? You two are, like, friends or whatever, right?” I knew she was thinking that we were more than that (were we? We hadn’t confirmed anything, so I wasn’t sure), but didn’t want to say anything in front of mom.

Zoe and I locked out eyes in a silent battle for dominance that was broken by a timid knock on the door. I sank back into my pillows, and annoyed huff escaping me. I don’t even have tell you that it was Evan at the door, or that he was wearing a hole in the carpet with the toe of his shoe, or how the sight of him made my heart do a little flip into the deep end. 

“H-hi, I, um, I probably should’ve waited, s-sorry, Zoe, it’s just that there was this-this nurse and she was asking me all these questions and I just-I just panicked and said I was here to see Connor? You! I was here to see you, Connor, and, um, I brought ice cream.” he held up a carton of mint chocolate chip, his eyes beseeching as they met mine, like he knew that I didn’t want him here. That I didn’t want him to see me like-like  _ this _ , all laid up and pathetic, my hair even greasier than usual and an IV hooked up to my arm. “My mom always says ice cream makes everything better.” he blushed, obviously pained. “I mean, not everything, that was stupid, sorry. Sorry, this was a bad i-idea, I’ll just--”

“Evan, jesus christ,” I called after him, exasperated and fully ignoring Zoe’s obvious internal victory dance. 

“You don’t have to leave.”

I could literally see the relief as it settled over Evan and he hurried into the room. My mother was beaming at him and, for a stupid, jealous second, I imagined a world where Evan was her kid and not me. How happy they would all be, how annoyingly  _ normal. _ My mom would absolutely dote on him, Zoe would have a brother who acted like cared more than half the time, and my dad would have a son to play catch with. I wondered if Evan had ever played baseball.

Better not to ask him.

“I, um, I brought spoons, too, but you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.” I made a move to sit up just a little bit, even though just thinking about it was exhausting, and Ev’s eyes widened like I had turned into a tap dancing bear. “D-don’t…don’t get up!” as though realizing his outburst he took a step back, hugging the ice cream to his chest like a shield. “S-sorry. You just, um…”  _ look like hell turned over _ was the unspoken end to that sentence. I glared at Zoe, and she grinned back, something like sadness lingering behind her smile that I chose to ignore for a latter day.   

“It sounds like you two are all set, then. Mom, let’s go find dad and get some food, okay?” she took our mom by her elbow like she was a fragile china doll (which she seemed to be, these days) and led her out of the room.

Which left Evan and I, the silence thick and heavy between us only punctuated by the tap of a nurse’s heels in the hall and the beeping of my heart monitor.

Evan looked. Fuck, Evan looked like he hadn’t slept in days. I mentally hit myself because, of course, the last time I had gone silent on him it had been for an entire month and after I had  _ promised _ not to do it again. I hadn’t even thought to shoot him a text, and I’d been checked into the hospital for, what? Two days? Three? Time passed weird surrounded by white walls and with long stretches between consciousness. He took the seat that my mother had been inhabiting for the past hour or so. I don’t know why she bothered. We didn’t say anything, and I just stared at the cartoon the nurse had turned (as though I was five or something) while she crocheted a blanket for the baby.

It was a girl, by the way. She was apparently far enough along to tell, which wasn’t something I was trying to focus to hard on. Larry wouldn’t have to be disappointed by anymore boys and my mom would have a doll to play dress up with when Larry came home late from work with lipstick on his collar and smelling like bourbon and dollar store perfume. 

And Zoe…Zoe would protect her. I know she would try her best. That killed me a bit, thinking of her having to defend our baby sister from the world and our parents all alone. Part of me wished for Evan to stick around long enough to help, but really I just wanted him to get away. Evan deserved so much better than I or this town had to offer.

“So…what’s up?” I asked, lamely. Evan smiled in his own way, hesitant and soft like his lips against mine. When he woke up in the morning he would sometimes smile at me, but that was different. Less guarded, like he hadn’t had time to start worrying about his appearances or about how much life sucked and for a second he was just…  

“A-actually I was thinking…I was thinking about your bucket list? About how we didn’t really--we haven’t really had the chance to finish it yet,”

“That’s because it was fucking stupid, Hansen,” I said before I could stop myself. Hurt flashed in Evan’s eyes, and I quickly made a mess trying to backtrack. “I mean, it was a therapy thing, okay? I didn’t  _ mean _ anything on the list, it was just generic shit you know?” Evan seemed to suddenly shrink into himself, and I quickly tried to think what I had said wrong. “What?”

“Nothing. I-it’s stupid.”

“No, Ev, c’mon. What?” I pressed desperately. He as retreating like a turtle into its shell. I didn’t like how I as causing it.

“I just thought it actually meant something. You c-choosing me to come on a-an adventure o-or whatever. Nevermindthat’ssosdumbI’msorry--”

“Evan!” he raised his arm and bit the sleeve of his sweatshirt like that was the only way to stop the word vomit. “I fucking chose you because I liked you, okay? I thought you were, like, the cutest guy ever and you were the nicest guy in our grade, the only guy in our grade who isn’t a complete asshole, in fact. Myself not exempt." The joke fell so flat it hopped into the second dimension, and Evan’s eyes widened.

For a second we just kind of…I don’t know. Stared at each other isn’t the right word but I guess that’s what it was. 

“R-really?” he whispered, and suddenly there was significantly less space between us.

“Yeah, dummy.”

And then one us, or maybe both of us, I don’t know, surged forward and my brain short-circuited as his lips met mine. 

He was smiling when he pulled away, and I felt that I was, too. 

“I l-like you too. But I c-can’t stay long. My mom gets off early today.” he flushed slightly, “We’re working on essays? Um, for scholarship contests. I-it’s dumb, and I  _ can _ stay! I mean, if you want. It’s just, she doesn’t get a lot of time off, so…”

“You’re fine, Hansen.”

He smiled hesitantly, relieved, but didn’t actually make any move to leave. He looked like he was thinking really hard, and his thumb swiped the back of my hand almost mindlessly. 

“Evan?”

He jumped like I had shocked him. “Right! Right, I have to go so I will…I will be back, um, if that’s okay, I’d like to come back so. And, er, here.” he dug into the pocket of his sweatshirt and handed me a piece of crumpled paper, the look on his face almost sheepish. “Y-yeah. I know you think it’s stupid, but just think about it, okay?”   

Before I could unfold the paper, he was gone. 

The paper was suspiciously familiar, the creases purposeful and angry. It protested lightly as I tried to unfold it, and I smoothed it on my lap. Familiar handwriting stared back at me, and I felt a wrench in my gut. 

Where had Evan found it? I had a dim memory of throwing it on the floor but couldn’t remember if I had ever bothered to throw it away, so it could’ve been any time he was over. I just didn’t get why he had bothered to keep it.

I mean, I had been lying a little earlier. Not about the list being bullshit, because it was. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t, like, my bullshit.  

Evan had left the ice cream on my bedside table, and I opened it, poking half-heartedly at the green lump with one of the spoons. My stomach turned, and I pushed it aside to look at the list again. 

Bullshit. This was all bullshit.

I punched my pillow as hard as I could (which wasn’t very) and tried to get comfortable (which wasn’t easy). Even with the puncturing beep of machinery and the low murmur of the other patients and nurses, I felt my eyelids droop heavily. I don’t know what drugs they were pumping me up on, but I wish I had them for, like, all of ninth grade, because it only took a few minutes for me to drift into unconsciousness.

 

~=~

It is always a little disorienting to wake up in a hospital, but especially one where the room has no windows. As usual I woke up with that nap-brain and there was the regular confusion but for a second I had a flashback to rehab (my parents forced me to go in tenth grade after wrapping my Buick around a tree). After several deep breaths and a helpful headache, I remembered.

Which. Was kind of worse.

God, I itched to get up and move around, but, even if I wasn’t hooked up to a bunch of machines, I knew I probably wouldn’t even be able to walk down the hall before quickly killing (ha) any chance I had of making it to the two week mark. That’s a weird thing to wish for, isn’t it? To just be able to walk down to even the cafeteria and grab a shitty, overpriced sandwich with Zo. Catch up on a few things before…before…  

I don’t know at what point I started to cry, but I almost laughed to see that I was. It was either laugh or throw something, so I think those anger management yoga trips were finally starting to pay off. I fell back against the pillows, wiping away the wetness from my cheeks with my arm until my arm was utterly useless because suddenly I was like a broken faucet. Someone had pushed my handle to hard in the wrong way and now they were waiting for the plumber to haul ass before I flooded everything in sight. 

I didn’t want to die.

Fuck the universe. 

Fuck cancer and my shitty genes. Fuck God and his shitty fucking plan because what  _ reason _ is there for me to die at seventeen? Who benefits from that? Why couldn’t he give one fucking pass to the kid who was never going to make a ripple, anyways, if only to be realistic because jesus fuck I didn’t even mean to  _ make it _ this far but only because I never thought I’d go like  _ this _ . Cooped up in a white room, trapped under a set of feather-light and itchy blankets with Evan Hansen popping by to bring me mint chocolate chip ice cream and a headache  _ that wouldn’t fucking quit. _

I bit my fist to keep from screaming or sobbing or both, bit hard until the skin broke and the copper taste of blood danced on my tongue. 

_ Breath in. Hold for ten. Out through the nose, close your eyes, and repeat. _

Breath in.

And out.

(Not because you know you won’t be breathing for much longer so you better enjoy it now).

Breath in. 

And out.

I aggressively dried away the last of my tears, just in time for Zoe to knock on the frame of my open door.

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have to do that, you know.” I told her. I was glad she didn’t comment on the stuffiness of my voice or how fucking obvious it was that I had just been crying, because I didn’t feel like doing it again, and if she asked about it, I might. 

“I know.” she entered, and I suddenly saw the box she was carrying. It was fairly large, like a moving box or something you keep all your old momentos in like family albums or baseball gloves. My brow twisted in confusion. 

“What is that?”

“Oh, just some stuff from home. Thought you might get bored. Can I have some ice cream?” she didn’t wait for my answer, because she’s Zoe, and dropped the box carelessly on the floor in exchange for a spoon and the now-melted treat. 

For some reason, looking at the box made me angry. Maybe it was because it meant that my stay wasn’t a temporary thing, at least, not in my parents eyes. I knew they would fight tooth and nail for me to stay here rather than put me in a hospice and admit defeat or bring me home and take me away from professional care and have my corpse fuck up the feng shui or whatever.

“You didn’t need to bring anything.” I said icily, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Con, chill. It’s no biggie. I’m trying to work on them to just let you come home but I brought you this shit so you would have something to do besides watching Seinfeld reruns all day.”

She was avoiding it. She wasn’t going to bring up the cancer or the fact that I literally had weeks to live if an elephant broke through the wall with a sign on it’s chest that read  _ Your brother is dying!! _

“Whatever. What’s in it?”

“Your sketchbook, the  Harry Potter series and your copy of  The Little Prince . Some chocolate, too, so you can feel for Harry when he gets his soul sucked by a dementor. And some colored pencils, obviously.”

I took the sketchbook when she handed it to me, confused. “This isn’t mine?” I said, though it sounded more like a question. I swear Zoe’s cheeks reddened.

“Duh. You were running out of ages in the other one and it was all beat up. I mean, well loved, but very much beat up. I think that thing is so old the hospital might have an outbreak of the Black Death if I tried to bring it. So I got dad to buy you a new one.”

“Dad did?” I gaped, astounded. “I didn’t--since when did he--”

“He loves you a lot more than you realize.” Zoe defended almost sharply. “The sketchbook was his idea. I helped pick out the pencils and shit, but the book was all him. He fucking--Connor, he has a drawer in his office with all your old drawings in it.”

I didn’t say anything, dumb as I was. I just ran my hand along the cover of the book, amazed. It was leather and neatly bound, the pages thick and smooth and I could just see the pencil gliding across. 

I didn’t even think he knew I liked to draw. Or remembered, at least. 

It took me moment to notice when Zoe went suddenly, suspiciously quiet. I tore my attention away from the journal to see that she was fumbling with a paper she had pulled from the box, looking almost nervous. For a second I thought it might be the bucket list, but no, it was still untouched on the table. 

“What’s that?” I asked when I could no longer take her silence. 

To my surprise, a tear slipped down her cheek, perfect and round like a cut crystal. She seemed to realize it, too, and wiped it away like an afterthought. 

“I-it’s--I found it in y-your sketchbook. It’s a drawing. Of, um, me.” she handed it over to me, a noticeable tremor in her hands. I remembered this drawing. I had drawn it in rehab as part of my ‘artistic therapy’ or whatever. It was Zoe, Zoe as I remembered her when all I could see was drab white walls and broken clocks. She didn’t come to visit me. Only my mom had, regularly, with Larry coming to the minimum number of group therapy sessions as possible. I couldn’t blame her. I was an awful brother, especially when I was still doing all the shit that turned my D.A.R.E officer gray. It was a picture of Zoe in her room, sitting on the soft pink carpet she had until recently when she decided it was ‘to girly’. Her guitar was in her lap, a soft smile on her face as the notes danced around her. It had helped to have it in my room, when I felt like I couldn’t remember anything good and when the withdrawal was really bad. “I-is that really how you see me?”

I didn’t know how to answer her. She looked so vulnerable and I was afraid of saying the wrong thing and ruining the moment or whatever so I just handed it back to her. “Keep it.”

“W-what? No, you must’ve worked really hard on it, and I--”

I rolled my eyes. “Zo. Keep it.”

She hugged the paper to her chest, her eyes shining like I had given her the Hope Diamond or something. She sat in the chair and, in a small voice, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

She fished a book out of the box and began to read. I flipped through the channels on the tv, settling on some mindless cartoon before giving in and turning it off. I was too tired for my eyes to focus and I felt a headache coming on from the noise and too-bright colors. I closed my eyes.

“Zoe?”

“Hm?”

“Can you read to me?”

She paused for a second, and I immediately felt stupid. But.   
“Yeah. Yeah, sure.” I relaxed the blankets I had bunched up in my fists and tried to get comfortable as Zoe’s voice washed over me, soft and light like how our mother’s used to be when she would read us stories.

“ _ Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense _ …” 


	11. Intrelude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone said that the song 'Våren' (or last spring) reminds them of this story and I was fucking so here's a link while you read this v short interlude:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MSpRM-HrX7Q

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evan and Zoe have a plan.

**Evan**

Toshi wouldn’t stop barking. 

Despite his size, the dog’s mega bark held even more of a bite. My mom used to call him my protector and joke about feeling better leaving me home alone so long as I had him, which had been cute for about .005 seconds before it was embarrassing.

In reality, it was I who had saved Toshi. A few years ago I had stumbled upon some teenage assholes debating what they were going to do with what looked like a dirty mop head before it had released a low whine. And yeah, I would like to say I bravely intercepted their plan and saved the day, ect, ect, but instead I was robbed when I shakily approached them to ask if they would  _ please stop being mean. _ Yeah. They took my grandfather’s watch, but I guess it was broken anyways and it was a worthwhile trade for the dog who was (pathetically) my best friend. 

“What’s going on, Tosh?” I frowned, closing my book. Well, Connor’s book. He had lent it to me the other week because, apparently, it was a hate-crime that I hadn’t read  Gulliver’s Travels .

_ “How is that a hate crime?”  _

_ Connor grinned, throwing the book into my lap. “I’m gay and it’s inconveniencing me. I can’t hang out with someone who’s never read it.” _

I hadn’t gotten around to reading it, but now, as my mother was off at an emergency shift and the house was cold and empty, Connor just out of my reach, it was almost comforting to be in possession of the novel. Connor had an odd taste in books, but, knowing how much he loved to read, him lending me his well-worn copy seemed almost intimate. Which was a ridiculous thought because we  _ were _ kind of dating. Weren’t we?

I mean, he had kissed me, so we had to be a little more than friends, right?

Toshi sank back on his heels, his ears flattening to the sides of his head as he growled. I was about to call for him to heel when something bumped against the side of my house.

My heart quickened in my chest, and Toshi jumped in my lap, licking at my hands. He did that when he knew I was anxious.

“W-who’s there?” I called, tangling my hands in his fur. “I-I’ve got a gun!”

“Don’t shoot me!” someone squeaked. I yelled, falling back and tumbling off the bed.

Toshi barked unhelpfully as I dragged myself back to my feet, panting from the fright. “Zoe!?! What the-what the  _ hell _ ?”

Zoe Murphy smiled like this was all completely normal. She had a leaf in her hair and her face was smeared with dirt. “Did you really have to threaten to shoot me?”

I was filled with such an overwhelming sense of deja vu that I had to sit down. Zoe didn’t seem to mind, but she was a little preoccupied with Toshi, who had made it his new mission to take down the intruder with his deadly kisses. She seemed okay with this, taking it with a grin despite her initial disgust. 

“S-sorry.” I mumbled, running a hand through my bed-head. It’s like the Murphy’s were allergic to warning me before they came over. Or doors.

Zoe laughed and picked up a wiggling Toshi, “You’re fine, Evan. It was funny. Who is this little guy? Connor didn’t tell me you had a dog!”

_ What did Connor tell you? _ I wanted to ask. But I didn’t. I stayed silent as Zoe plopped herself onto my carpet, her legs folded like a pretzel beneath her. She took a moment to fawn over Toshi before speaking. 

“How did you and Connor meet, Evan?” she asked. I could sense that there was an underlying weight to her question, and it made me nervous. 

Connor and I had never really talked about what to say in this sort of situation. I doubt his parents would be to pleased he literally broke into a stranger’s house one night to go and egg someone else’s, and the whole thing just seemed sort of…private, you know? 

“W-we met at. Um. Globe.  _ History! _ We met in history class, right? Mr. Hood’s!”

She frowned. “Connor’s never had Mr. Hood.”

_ Fuck _ . “R-right! He wasn’t, er, in the class, of course not, but he got-it was one of those days where the teachers like combine classes to watch a movie? Right, and um, Connor sat next to me.” I could tell from the look on her face that Zoe was not buying it, and wilted. “He broke into my h-house.”

“He did  _ what _ ?”

I winced, “N-not to steal anything! It was just-he had-he wanted my help with something!”

Zoe’s eyes were wide, and I cursed myself. To my surprise, she simply stood and began to pace the length of my small room. 

“Does this have anything to do with the list I found when I went to visit him?” she asked, narrowly avoiding Toshi as he chased her around the room, his tongue lolling happily out of his mouth. 

“W-what list?” I said, already knowing the answer to my own question. 

“I’m…I’m almost positive it was a bucket list. Is that what he wanted your help with?” slowly, I shook my head. Zoe looked almost defeated. “Oh. I had just thought maybe…I don’t know, I thought we were getting closer. I thought maybe he would’ve come to me with that sort of thing. I know that’s not really fair but I just…”

“It’s not your fault.” I blurted, “R-really, Connor, he just…he didn’t…he told me that he wanted to keep it as impersonal a-as possible. He didn’t even tell me he had cancer; J-Jared had to when we were at s-school.”

That seemed to calm Zoe down a bit, and she smiled just a little. “That obviously didn’t work. Since you two are…you know,” she wiggled her eyebrows and burst into laughter when I blushed. “How far have you two gotten on the list?”

“It’s not, um, Connor…I think he…gave up on it. The day I kinda showed up on your door was because he hadn’t--I hadn’t heard from him in awhile and he told me he wasn’t interested in it anymore and we just. I didn’t want to pressure him into doing anything he didn’t want to, even if I thought--nevermind.” I looked down at my lap and sat on my hands so I would stop twisting them so much.

Zoe looked up from petting Toshi, an earnest look on her face. “What? What did you think?”

I shrugged helplessly. “I-I was just worried, for a time, that it meant h-he was giving up or something. But he d-didn’t ignore me anymore and he seemed happy enough, so I must’ve been wrong. I g-gave him the list today just to think about. I don’t…I don’t want him to give up.”

Zoe’s expression softened. She looked so empathetic I was worried it might push me over the edge and I would start to cry. That would be embarrassing--I’m an ugly crier, and it would be so dumb. She’s Connor’s  _ sister _ , and we’ve only been dating--if we were even doing that--for a few months. She put her hand on my knee, squeezing comfortingly. “Hey. It’s going to be okay, Ev. I’ll talk to Connor about the list, okay? I think it would be good for him to get his mind off….things.” she smiled almost shyly, “And if you guys would let me, I would love to help.”

 

**Cynthia (6 weeks before)**

 

 

There were good days. Those were the ones Cynthia liked to remember. The days between the otherwise endless hospital visits, the days when Connor had enough energy to do more than lock himself in his room all day and leave the plates of food she left by his door untouched. Like when Zoe had her jazz band concert, and all of them, even Connor, got dressed up to go see it and they went and got dinner at  _ Giuseppe's _ . Or when Connor’s friend would come over and the boys would sit on the couch all day, still lazy as they watched tv but sometimes Zoe joined them and their laughter echoed around the house in three-part harmony. 

Cynthia liked the house to be full of noise. She hated quiet, was terrified the idea and the prospect of it. It made her itch and ache. It was part of the reason why she married so young and was so insistent on having kids early, so she would have noise to fill the void left when Larry went on his business trips. Oh, they were happy then. Connor was such a good baby. He never cried more than he needed to and he had the biggest blue eyes with that stunning ring or brown around the center. And he was such a mommy’s boy, too. Zoe always gravitated towards her father, as young girls are apt to do, but Connor would always be there to tug on her skirts and tell her a joke like  _ why did the rooster cross the road? To prove he wasn’t chicken! _

He didn’t tell jokes anymore, and Cynthia hated that she couldn’t map a timeline and point to the exact day it all changed.

But. Well.

Change happens, and it’s hard to keep up with. The thing that no one tells you about children is that they too will grow to be people, and it is the most rewarding, heartbreaking thing to see them stumble and refuse to ask for help or to have no help to give. And they drift. They feel, at times, continents away. 

So she hadn’t been very upset when she found out she was pregnant. She thought Larry wouldn’t be all that upset, either, and he wasn’t. As in, he wasn’t home enough for it to affect him. Now Zoe could have a younger brother or sister and Connor―

They weren’t replacing him. That was something Cynthia assured herself over and over. They couldn’t replace her Connor, not in a million years. They were just…

“Mom?”

Cynthia started, and smoothed down her skirt with a sigh. Her son lingered in the kitchen doorway, wearing an unfamiliar and too-big shirt that read something about trees and baggy sweatpants. Dressed for bed, where he  _ should _ be, at this point in the night and in his condition. 

She tried to smile as warmly as she could, tried not to show how much the sight of him so disheveled weighed on her like stoney chains. “Hi, sweetie. What’re you doing up?”

He lowered his eyes, which was a wordless way for him to say  _ headache, but I don’t want to freak you out _ . “Couldn’t sleep.” Connor mumbled, pulling out one of the chairs at the island and burying his head in his arms. Cynthia rubbed his shoulder, his heart expanding and deflating in her chest. He was so thin.

“Do you want some tea, baby? I just bought some new lavender loose-leaf that the girls at the club absolutely die f―that they love.”

His shoulders rose in a half-hearted shrug, and Cynthia clucked her tongue, choosing instead to pull out some of Connor’s pumpkin spice tea. Zoe was more of an iced tea or hot chocolate drinker, and Larry never drank anything but coffee that should be marketed as Vantablack. Cynthia, of course, drank whatever she could get her hands on, but she was in an herbal kick and pumpkin spice dolloped with about a pound of sugar as Connor liked it didn’t really fit.

She set the mug in front of the teenager, relieved when he came alive just enough to wrap his hands around it and breath in the steam. He didn’t immediately spit it out when he took a sip, which Cynthia took as a win.

“Your sister and I are going shopping for drapes tomorrow. Hers were destroyed by the cat the other day and I was thinking about getting some nice ones for the baby’s room. Something blue, I think.” she said dreamily, “Like the sky. Do you want to come?”

Connor pushed his mug back across the island, leaving Cynthia reeling to figure out what she had said wrong. “No.” he replied shortly, “And I’m probably going to spend the day with Evan, so don’t really expect me home for dinner tomorrow night, either.”

Helpless, she watched him leave. It was like this most days. She felt like she was playing tennis with a brick wall. Sometimes Cynthia wished one of her children would pick up a racket and help her out a little, because she was getting exhausted and the wall was only getting stronger with each hit.

She poured Connor’s untouched drink down the sink and started towards bed, already anticipating the cold mattress and empty room, the sounds of an ocean paradise playing over her noisemaker to fill the void.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos feed the demon inside.
> 
> Tumblr: https://gaymemesrus.tumblr.com/


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